Confidence is Powerful: Part 5

The Thing For Me
It was introduced to me at first by a friend who I watched go from “30-Something-Desk-Job-Dad” to “Holy-Hot-Stuff-Dad”. After a couple of trial classes and a partial view of his rock hard abs, I signed up for the starter series called “On-Ramp”. Where they go through all the lifts and movements to show the new recruits proper form.

They appeared at first to me, like a cult-ish tight knit community of ridiculously fit, beautiful people. I recall walking into one of my first training classes a little early. Seeing them all inverted, standing on their hands, pushing up and down against the wall. I thought, “Oh, no, no, no. Nope, no way, not me, I am NOT an athlete, these people are hard core, I am not hardcore like that”. Upside down kicking her heels up in the air while locking out her arms, one of the ladies appeared to be around my age. I watched as she did this movement repeatedly. It looked hard, and from her face, it was, but she kept going, pushing. I thought again, “these people are crazy athletes, this is nuts” but this time with a little more respect. Gravity got the better of her tank top and it floated toward her face, giving me a view of amazingly sculpted, powerful abs. I could see the muscles working to make her body do that impossible task. Impressive. That was what brought me here. I wanted an opportunity to craft my stomach like that! I remember thinking “Ok, fine, I will do hand stand push ups as soon as I am able! What a wonderfully crazy group of people.”

The crispy-cool January air seeping in the warehouse-like gym kept me alert. I did all the stupid things they asked me to do, and even liked some of it. After the training, Red-faced, sweaty and feeling physically trashed, I knew that I had gotten another taste of something, and it was delicious, alluring, addictive. I couldn’t stop. I was seduced into showing up and doing my best. I wanted more, my muscles were starting to wake up. Then, I saw that first hint of a bicep on my arms, that’s when it all started to really change for me. I fell in love my sexy arms; the definition, the huge size…awesome because I could DO something with them! They had a purpose. I could lift big weights. I wasn’t just a big lady, I was a strong lady. That meant something, that made me feel something. Strong, capable. Confident.

I found a way to fit it in to my life, or rather it negotiated it’s way into my life. In order to make it work, I had to wake up at 4:30am because even after a couple of months, just going one day a week, I could clearly see, it was working for me. Inside and outside my body. My head even felt clearer.

Plenty of people practice Crossfit and love it. Although I have always been active, I was never an athlete by any means. Looking on from the drama club side of things, to me, it seemed like something only the hardcore fitness nutters do. You know, The uber fit people who eat paleo and suffer for their appearance. I was…less than fit, hardly sporty, and certainly not wiling to modify what I eat. I’ve always been pretty low maintenance and have the attitude “it is what it is” when it comes to my appearance. At first, I was convinced that I was just in it for the basic stuff: a good work out so I could get in shape. It only took me a little while to realize that it’s always been so much more than just fitness.

More Than Fitness
Initially, I wasn’t sure if I could even survive all of these so called W.O.D’s. I was shocked at what I could do, how good it felt when I pushed myself. Then, I just tried to improve a little each time. After a while, I committed more and more time and effort. With amazing coaching, training, & consistent effort, almost three years later; I’ve built up strength and skills to do hand stand push ups, climb ropes (because I can), throw big weights over my head (because it’s fun), jump on boxes, and yes, running. I still hate running, but now it is a means to an end. There is usually a barbell of some sort, waiting for me back in my happy place, at my gym.

Right now, I am the strongest, happiest version of me that I have ever been. I am not defined by the tag inside my skirt or the number on the scale. Not as fit as I want to be, but so much better than I was. I am my own brand of beautiful. I am unique, wild and incomparable to anyone else.

Here I am. Julie 2.0.