It’s Ash Wednesday. The start of Lent. It was almost upon me before I even realized it was coming and considered what to give up. But it was also the first year that my Lenten challenge seemed obvious.
Lest you think this is a post related to spirituality, it is not. Oh heavens no. We are still here, second Wednesday of the month, for Workout Wednesday.
But I am going to spend the next 40 days (give or take a week, for reasons I’ve never understood) focusing on my body.
You see, I had a debate with myself as I stood in my inlaws bathroom with the only scale I allow myself to step on this weekend. I had over-indulged the night before on salty Chinese food, and under-indulged in liquids of any form. My fingers were swollen enough that my rings, usually swinging loose, had to be roughly forced on that morning. I knew the number on the scale wouldn’t be accurate, but how could I not step on it? I’m sure you can figure out the rest.
Since stepping on that scale, I’ve had no motivation to eat well, to exercise or to hydrate, because in that moment, it felt like all three of those things were futile. It wasn’t just a confirmation of one night of poor choices. It was a confirmation of the nagging voice in the back of my head that said my pants were tighter. My stomach softer. My arms weaker.
It’s one thing to be working out regularly. But it’s another thing to be working out effectively.
So I’m going to push myself. I’m going to see how far this body of mine will take me by moving every day. I’m not going to let myself use a good workout justify a day of poor eating. I’m not going to count Coke, coffee or tea toward my daily hydration tally.
I’m going to prove to myself that I am capable of much more than I’ve been giving myself credit for. I’m going to listen to my body more than the size of my pants or the number on the scale. I’m going to let it show me all it can do.