Pushing Yourself

I’m taking this new workout class called Group Power at my health club. Basically, it’s set up like your typical aerobics class, but it’s all weight lifting. You have a bar and weights, and an instructor up on a stage shouting orders through a microphone attached to her face. And it’s all set to music. So you do one muscle group to one track…for example squats (oooh. I hate squats!) for 5.5 min, thereby working every major muscle group in your body in one hour. The idea is mid weights with high reps to tone instead of bulk.

Okay, that’s the idea.

So, I’ve been taking this class three times per week for the past three weeks, and I gotta say. It. Is. Kicking. My. Ass. Nevermind that I’ve been working out hard five times per week since Christmas. Basically I’m coming off two yrs of not working out – being pg and sluggish, and a post-pg year where I thought I’d just rebound like I did with my other two pregnancies. Ah. No one told me being in your 30’s changes your body FOREVER!


There is a point here, don’t worry.

So, like I said, it’s now been three weeks and I’ve decided I really dislike my instructor. She’s blonde and thin and strong and smiles ALL the time. (I think there’s something wrong with her face.) She looks like she’s about 25 – perfect, perky, all those things those of us who AREN’T 25 hate. So as I sweat and frown and growl through clenched teeth as I’m lifting and she’s yelling at us to “PUSH YOURSELVES!”, I look at her and think, if I were 25 and single and had no kids, I could look like that, too. It’s immature, but it gets me through the hour without wanting to scream.

Of course, that was before I learned she has three kids ages 10, 8, and 5. That she’s been married for fourteen years. That her husband is an FBI agent and often travels so she does the single mom thing a lot.

As you can guess, all my preconceived ideas were squashed with that information. And now instead of being irritated by her, I’m more awed at what she’s able to do. (Of course, I still think there’s something wrong with her face because she really does smile all the time, even when she’s killing us. Maybe she’s masochistic? As one guy said to me after class the other day, “It’s like being in boot camp all over again, except the drill sergeant SMILES at you.”).

Today while in class, that little tidbit of info got me thinking about this whole writing gig (see, told ya there was a point to all this). All those excuses I lump on myself about why I’m not getting things done in a timely fashion are bogus. Yeah, I have three kids. And yeah, they’re young. But a lot of successful authors have young kids. A lot have more than three. And a lot have gone on to do amazing things. It’s the same if you’re working full time or do the single mom thing. If writing’s what you want to do but you’re making excuses about not getting it done, then you’re not really pushing yourself to be all you can.

So, I pushed myself a little harder in class today. And I’m sore and tired, but I know in the not-too-distant future, it’s going to pay off. Just like the writing.


If I keep pushing, it’ll happen soon.