Actually, I wanted to write that my body has betrayed me.
That sounds more dramatic and outside of my control.
The truth is that as I was leaning in towards the bathroom mirror to floss my teeth the other night, I looked down.
I looked down and in a moment of self-preservation unconsciousness I let my stomach out.
Couldn’t see my abs.
The hair on my stomach is going grey.
Fuck! I can even see how the tone and elasticity of my skin are changing.
For years I’ve had a stellar bod.
Not body. A body is just, ‘Meh, whatever.” A “bod”, oh ya, now that’s something to strive for!
“Hot Bod, man!”
The sort of thing that gets my attention (and the attention of others) on Grindr or on the beach.
Well. That large piece of red velvet cake didn’t help this evening. Nor did the small chocolate milk. As if the “small” made any fucking difference.
I grabbed a roll under my navel.
That’s fucking fat down there! This isn’t new but it’s getting to that point where I’m done with it. I can’t deal to look at myself like this.
It’s not that bad. Honestly.
I know how other people would react if I said this to them with my shirt off.
They’d call me obsessed or ridiculous.
But I know what I used to look like. I know how visibly ripped abs used to feel, both on the inside and on the outside.
Sometimes I’m self
You see now about the “hot bod” bit?
For some reason, one needs to drop off letters and use apostrophes to create emphasis. It’s a youthful thing and it sure as hell makes me feel good at 51, having a 30-year old partner.
Meh. I only have to work harder. But my toe hurts. I have low back pain. My left gluteus isn’t firing properly. My left side hip flexor is a bitch when squatting.
I’ve been dealing with these challenges (real) which are also excuses at the same time for well over 6 months.
I have not been exercising in a way I’ve been long accustomed to for a year or longer. I can see the loss of muscle, but I also feel the loss of interest.
I’ve been working out since I was 20.
I suppose getting bored with lifting is okay, but it’s not helping how I feel about myself.
As I write this I feel like I simply have to commit to lifting heavier again. Lift more often, but at a lower intensity and for a shorter duration.
Heck, I’m supposed to be a former fitness coach, right? I’m supposed to be exceptional at movement coaching and program design, right?
But wait, this is for me now and I’m one of my most challenging clients. Boy am I ever high maintenance!
When something in my body hurts or is tight I will stretch instead of lift which is smart. Or I try bodyweight, single limb, and fluidic movements to diagnose issues. But in the end, it feels like I’m procrastinating on me.
Which leads to something else, of course.
Something else is bothering me which has nothing to do with a loss of passion in lifting.
Sure, not being able to lift as heavy as I used to is part of getting older, and that does suck on one level. But I can always find a way to challenge myself.
It’s achievement in other areas that’s getting me down and lowering my level of happiness.
I feel as if I should have more money, more clients, or something generally “better” by now.
That stress plays out like this sometimes:
“Should I skip my workout today and do this other thing that might help me grow my business?”
“Should I workout first and hopefully have the focus to work on that thing I want to achieve?”
Onwards rolls the conundrum down the hill gathering momentum.
What’s the truth, the reason simmering below the surface?
Is there something you’re struggling with? Do you think you know what the problem is, but really, it’s something deeper?
The problem in this storey is not my body. In fact, this post is based on a journal entry from over a year ago.
I tell the story because I found myself stuck. With the help of regular journaling and working with a coach I realized the “dissatisfaction” I was feeling about my body was misdirected.
I realized I was in the wrong business! Once I found that clarity I was able to move forward and everything else started to feel better.