I don’t know where to start when it comes to writing about myself. I just do the things that give me joy and energy. I consider myself an ordinary person until I touch the bar. Then something takes over. I don’t know if it is my energy from the long line of strong women that were constantly told or shown that they could not or the ancestors that were beaten to submission. But whatever the root cause, I become energy.
During my most recent lift, I thought about the fact that I wanted to lift heavy but had lost confidence earlier in the week when I failed to lift 10 lbs above what I had been practicing on. I had just lift 225 lbs off the ground and I struggled but the 235 lbs would not come off the floor. I took a deep breath and set up again. Nothing. It was as though gravity and the weight of the world was on top of that bar. I left the gym quickly afraid of crying in front of people because I had wanted badly to move above 225 lbs which was my PR at my last event. I went home and hosted the world’s most brief pity party. No cake, no wine, just me. I even thought of pulling out of the event on the following Sunday. But instead I rested. I remembered during those days between that Tuesday and the six days in between that I had done immeasurable things. I had gone from lifting my 5 lb dumbbells in my hands thinking that it was heavy to lifting above my own body weight. When I think of that and all of the times that I doubted that I would ever lift anything off of the floor, I can laugh now. But that Tuesday, there was no laughter. Only dejected feelings of loss and a sense of failure. So when I stepped up to the bar, I remembered every part of my training. My bird always in my ear is my trainer, the ever ferocious Francine, telling me to plant my feet…hinge my hips….tighten my back muscles, and lift that dang (insert other word here) thing off of the ground. It all worked. Everything was in alignment. It wasn’t until I heard myself and the group of proud women, friends, and family yelling that I knew that it was up. I stood tall. I stood on the backs of my ancestors that worked fields, I stood tall for the female family members that were for a time trapped in relationships where they were beaten down. I stood for the little girl that I carry in my heart that was told time and time again that it was a “boy” thing and that you didn’t want to lift anything too heavy. I lifted myself plus 60 lbs off of the floor and in the most guttural way, I roared. I hope that women who read this know that they too can roar. I hope they know that it is not about where or how you start, it is about the fact that you show up for yourself and how you finish. I am energy. They can be too.
תגובות