Bring it, baby!

The last 14 days have been a wild ride, not the kind that is fun. Nah, this is the kind that sucks hard core. Still, I find myself wanting to run at the day like Phoebe in Central Park screaming "Bring it, baby! Bring it!"

First, the context: Here's a recap of the highs and lows.

Sunday. First, I woke up with a horrible rash on my neck. Apparently, I am now, at 36 years of age, allergic to shellfish for the first time ever. Go figure! On this same day, I woke with a kink in my neck that limited my ability to look left -- very Derek Zoolander. As a special cherry on top, I got my monthly visitor that day as well. Yum! I couldn't use Icy Hot to calm the kink because of the rash, so I was one crampy, splotchy Frankenstein's monster for days.

Thursday. I hit the 30 lbs. down mark (woo hoo)! & that was absolutely wonderful! My husband offered me chocolate cake to celebrate and I honestly didn't want any. Thank you, Shakeology!

Friday. I hyperextended my right leg while furiously attacking the AMT machine (similar to an eliptical) at my gym. Still, I'm training so I have to suck it up & foam roll my self silly :o)

Saturday. Like sunlight screaming in the face of a hangover victim, the terrifying reality that I am, in fact, registered to run the Jailbreak on September 19th hit me as I huffed and puffed up and down teen weeny hills. Despite my desire & perceived ability, I wore the wrong clothes (a cute little running skirt) and ended up with chaffed and bleeding thighs. I took two days off, but again, I'm in training so I had to suck it up!

So you can see I was kind of all over the place so to speak and maybe this is why I was feeling a little delicate. Maybe this is also why, when faced with a few nice-nasty comments and WTF situations in a row, I was left wanting to claw someone's eyes out. Maybe that's why I dreamed of punching and kicking my way through the faces that had left me feeling like someone else's punching bag.

Did I mention I'd started Turbo Kick Boxing? That might be relevant.

Oh, & I also saw the movie Kick Ass last week? Loved it. This might also be relevant.

Interestingly enough, I was talking to my mom about a situation where she felt that petty high school sensation of others being mean for no frickin reason at all. She was in shock. Afterall, she's pushing 60; isn't that sort of nonsense supposed to be over at this point in life?

Apparently not.

And apparently the fact that I'm pushing my own boundaries, meeting my own goals, finding such personal balance and peace doesn't make me exempt from what I perceive as attacks either.

The difference is that I've been kicking ass and taking names -- the miles, the pounds, the fears have all been falling by the waste side in the past 6 months -- and I am not the person I once was. I'm all for taking on life's ups and downs, for grabbing the bull by the horns and getting it done, but when it comes to having someone else's crap dumped on me, well, that's where I draw the line.

My new nature, the healthier, more engaged me, likes to look for the lesson in experiences. So what's up with this little nugget? I think the lesson is that no matter what, there will always be two battles raging. The internal and the external.

Getting fit is partially about the internal battles. Fighting the voice in your head that questions your ability , your strength, and pushing through to prove just how kick ass you really are. Then there are the external battles. Those that hit you when you aren't expecting them, when you haven't had the chance to steel yourself emotionally. What then?

I can't pretend to know for sure, but I can say this. I have a life time of proof that points to my ability to do anything through faith, presence and determination. If anyone has reason to fear, it definitely isn't me.

Until next,