Firmer calves, as I noticed while sitting on the front stoop stroking my legs the other day. Sweat pouring off my face, down my chest allowing me to see my heavy workout through my shirt. I see smoothness where there was dimpled skin and there is this line of definition showing in my shoulders. The flabby underarms wiggle less. The garage door can be opened with one arm.
I know I am really working out this time. The treadmill incline is at an 8, not a 0. I do 3 slow reps of 12 with the weights, instead of hurrying up to get it over with. And I think the difference is, this time it is coming purely from me- not an insecure idea of what’s wrong with me that I must fix or from the advice of some expert. It’s all me. Results are occurring (other than weight loss and loose pants). I am stretching. Not forcing. Curious to see what I will look like and how I feel on my 40th birthday.
I’m a bulky girl, a bit like Rocky Balboa in the first 2 Rocky’s. I’ve been afraid to see what my body might look like. I’ve been advised to do yoga and pilates to be more lean. This may come later, but for now why deny what my body’s potential is. In building my muscles, I envision them eating away the fat and the lethargy that has been my experience, and creating a solid and strong place for me to dwell. The other day on the treadmill I felt like I broke through the weight and fog and to a place of ease and lightness. I was still sweating but the effort wasn’t as hard. This is what I’m noticing as I continue to stretch beyond my comfort.
I’d say simple, but I know the back story is anything but. But life is cyclical- it doesn’t stay hard forever.