Falling Down and Getting Up Again

Before I started writing this post, I peeked at the page where I am documenting my so-called journey of weight loss. [This post will be indexed there too, so it is kind of meta that I am linking to the container page from within the post. Sorry. I need to geek out slightly.]

Anyway, so I looked at the posts on that page, and I can see fairly clearly that I have gotten absolutely nowhere. I am still as fat as before, if not more. But I haven’t started writing this to whine, but to talk about how I have decided (anew) to change that. The millionth time’s a charm?

So, last year, before quitting my full-time job, I looked up places that taught martial arts. Specifically mixed martial arts. I am not only terribly unfit, but also an unfortunate target of a lot of unwanted male attention. I thought it might me feel a bit more secure to be able to kick ass.

However, due to circumstances, I didn’t join at the time. I saved the number in Keep, and never mustered up the courage to call, nor to tell my family about this new desire. [Because my mum would have been very enthusiastic, and perhaps pushed me to join sooner.]

Last month, I bit the bullet and called the number, terrified of lord knows what. The man didn’t answer, and I heaved a sigh of relief and figured it wasn’t meant to be.

Only. He called back.

Um.

Ok.

Breathe.

Be normal.

Speak to him, you idiot.

I asked him a few questions, and he was unsurprisingly an easy person to talk to. [No matter how many normal people I speak to, I always imagine them as ogres in my mind before speaking to them.]

I laid out all my caveats. I’m 33. I’m very overweight. I have gout. I have a mostly sedentary lifestyle. I don’t know whether I was subconsciously asking him to reject my candidature. He did no such thing. He said that anyone could take the class, and they would progress as per their individual capability and speed. He had an excellent suggestion: come to a class and see what it is like. I was out of excuses.

The next morning, I legged it to the class. I was there for less than 5 minutes, because that’s how quickly I was sold on the idea. I said that I would need a couple of weeks to settle in with a new project that was coming up, and after that I would join the class.

My first class was on Tuesday. It was intense. I couldn’t do all the reps that the trainer instructed, but I tried. My body is out of shape and doesn’t not respond well yet to orders to move it so vigorously. But I tried.

Wednesday, my body was groaning and aching, and my muscles felt fit to burst with agony. I was hobbling around like an ancient crone. I alternated between relishing the stress on my muscles, knowing that it was good for me, and being scared about continuing.

I was still undecided this morning. But I decided to take it step by step: get out of bed; shower and change; get to the class; and then see whether I am able to cope.

I wasn’t able to cope, but I tried once again. Again, I couldn’t do the reps. But I’m going back on Saturday.

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