grateful amazement

finding wonder…everywhere.

Reclaiming Me :: Body

on February 20, 2015

{Throughout 2015, one of the ways I’m going to overcome my Writing Laryngitis is to post about ways I’m Reclaiming Me :: Body, Mind, and Soul. Here’s a bit more of that Reclamation.}

grateful for the pain

<< Livestrong @ the Y // Week Three >>

Today, I hurt.

Like all over.
Like. My. Whole. Body.

It’s kind of hurt that actually has a sound.
If you’re really quiet, you can hear it pretty clearly…

Shhh…
Hear that?
It’s the sound of muscles screaming.

One of the trainers this week said he prefers the term ‘singing’ when referring to the sound muscles make WHEN THEY’RE BEING TORN TO LITTLE SHREDS during the workout process. Singing?

Hmmm…today, I think I’ll stick with ‘screaming.’
With each breath, every inch of me is being reminded that I did things this week that I haven’t done in years…and some things I’ve never done at all.
Things like spinning, zumba-ing, weight lifting, battle roping, ripcording, weighted-ball-twisting lunge-walking, step-upping. (I’m sure the words I’m making up have Fitness Experts everywhere shuddering…oh well, shuddering probably burns more calories so, Fitness Experts, you’re welcome!)

So, yeah…I hurt.
And, as I lay in bed this morning, breathing slow and deep in an attempt to motivate this sore, aching body to get up and out of bed, I realized that I’m grateful for the pain.

Grateful because it signals to my heart and mind that I am alive.
Grateful because it reminds me that the slumbering Amazon Queen inside of me is starting to regain her footing.
Grateful because it means I did something that’s going to make a difference (as long as I keep doing it *smirk).
Grateful because it calls to mind just how much this stitched-together, stretched, scarred body can still do.
Grateful because it helps me grab onto the miracle that I’m becoming a Thriver after spending most of my life simply surviving.
Grateful because it tells me that I managed to show up for myself this week.

You want to know a magical thing that comes to me as I sit with that last one?
That Showing Up Thing?
I realize that when I show up for myself at the gym, I tend to show up in other important areas of my life, too.
Without breaking too much of a mental sweat.
Without getting into a long argument with myself about it.
Without letting old tapes and messages play louder than the truth.
Showing up for myself at the gym is strengthening a lot more than just my body, it seems.

Maybe, just like my muscles that are being TORN TO LITTLE SHREDS (also referred to as ‘good trauma’ *maybe something for a future post?) in the strengthening process, the reasons I’ve historically been afraid to show up are being TORN TO SHREDS, too.
Ripped up.
Frayed and rent and mangled.
All so that my Showing Up Muscles can be rebuilt into the confident, strong, agile muscles they’re meant to be.

So I’m grateful.
Grateful the shredding.
The ripping.
The fraying.
Grateful for the pain.

It means I’m getting stronger.
In more ways than one.

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