The Prodigal Daughter Returns

Last June, my husband’s job changed so that he began working from home. Previous to the change, he would take BART into the city each morning, to be at work by 5:30 a.m. He was on East Coast time.

For various reasons, mostly child-care issues, I was never able to fully use my gym membership. But when my husband’s commute moved from a 45 min BART ride to literally rolling out of bed, a new opportunity presented itself entirely.

I became one of those women who tiptoe out of their homes at 5 in the morning to get to the gym, while her family sleeps. This way, I could still get my work out on, but the children would be none the wiser. (Well, kind of. They pretty much figured it out when they would wake up and find me not at home…but with my husband at home, it certainly made the child care issue a non-issue.)

My gym opens at 5:30 am, but the lady who opens the gym will actually let us in around 5:15. It’s a Women-Only gym, and I like it that way.

At the crazy hour of 5:15, there would generally be about 7 of us there — 7 of us *regulars*. Other ladies would come and go at that hour, but there were only a few of us who were there rain or shine, sleep or no sleep. Of the 7 regulars, there was only one other woman who did circuits like me. We were the two *crazies* mixing up the jump rope with the mountain climbers and the free weights. I didn’t know her name, but she was my comrade — tackling the sumo squats with gusto…pushing out a few more bench dips. We sweated together and shared the medicine ball.

From July to November, I stuck to my routine. I was kicking a$$ and taking names. I began eating cleaner, non-processed foods. My body was getting leaner. I was in the best shape I’d been in for a very long time.

And then everything sort of shut down in December. The biggest culprit was most likely burn out, but I could name a few more reasons excuses. In January, I made a half-hearted attempt to get back to the gym, but it didn’t stick. In May, I vowed to all of blogland my committment to Body & Wellness . Well, that was about as successful as any newlywed couple who decides to do a reality show on MTV.

There were many reasons why I put off going back to the gym. One was sleep. I mean, who really wants to tear themselves out of bed to go work out? Not me.

Secondly, I was furious at myself. I had worked so hard and accomplished so much, only to let it go to nothing. “What a waste!” I would sneer at myself. “I can’t believe you wasted five months of dedication, and now you have to start all over again.”

Lastly, I was ashamed. What would *they* think at the gym? Would they roll their eyes at me? Make me feel bad for disappearing off the face of the earth? The logical part of me did realize that the gym members probably could care less. I do realize that I’m not the center of the universe. They are probably more concerned with their own workouts than whether or not I’m keeping up with my own.

This morning, I swallowed my pride and I returned to the gym. I’m not sure what I expected, but it was not this:

As I signed my name in, my friend who I had spent many hours sweating with (and yet didn’t know her name) greeted me with the biggest, most welcoming smile!

“Hi! I saw you walking through the doors!!! How are you?! I’ve missed you!”

Oh. My. Gosh.

This is what I was dreading? This horrible ogre, who didn’t harbor one tiny ounce of judgement or “where were you?” She didn’t care that I’d been sleeping in and scarfing chocolate — she was just glad to see me back.

I couldn’t help but wonder, what if I had been that kind to myself, insteading of belittling myself for letting good habits slide. If our roles had been reversed, I know that I would have treated my gym-friend the same way, with kindness and warmth.

Why is it so much harder to be forgiving and kind to yourself?

I am linking this post to Melissa’s Beautiful Life Series, because taking care of myself and being kind to myself is part of creating a beautiful life.

Tagged as: exercise, weight loss