Digging Deeper

This week, I've started a new repertoire of exercises with M. the Reasonable. He has a detailed plan he follows--customized to my needs and abilities, of course--and every few weeks he changes it up. We'll do the same workouts for three or four weeks, increasing resistance each week and watching in delight as the exercises get easier for me and my body gets stronger.

So Monday found me getting an introduction to dead lifts, and today, the bench press. The dead lifts left my hamstrings incredibly sore (M. greeted this news with a big grin) and I know that tomorrow, my arms and shoulders will be feeling it from today.

Also on the agenda today was an exercise M. called "bear crawls." I tried this a few weeks ago with little success, but now my back is getting stronger and today I was able to hold the walk and get through it--but not without some drama.

I have gotten to a point where Burpees don't bother me, and I've even stopped whining about running. But the bear crawl was really difficult for me today, and it tested me in a way that I haven't really been tested in a while.

I dropped to my knees a few times during my first go across the aerobics room and back. I called out, "I'm sorry!" to my trainer each time. Sweat was dripping down my face and my already-sore hamstrings were screaming with the effort. My biceps and triceps were not faring much better--after bench pressing earlier, they, too, were tired.

After a brief rest, I started my second set. M. assured me that as soon as I got through this set, I was finished for the day. I started off across the room on hands and tiptoes, breathing hard and willing myself on--remembering M.'s words of a month ago, "You're going to have to dig deeper for this one." At the halfway point, I turned around and started back across the room, feeling exhausted and wretched but determined to prove to M. and myself both that I could do this. Halfway across the room, my knees hit the ground again. Instead of apologizing to M. for stopping, I half-shouted, "God damn it, Megan! You can do this!" M.'s voice came from a few feet away: "Yes, you can! Come on, make it to the end in one go. You can do it!"

Pulling every ounce of stubborn willpower I had in me, I burst across the last half of the aerobics room, to the sound of M. encouraging me.

A few minutes later, I admitted to him that I used to have moments like this all the time with my previous trainers--those times when it seems so easy to just give up and tell myself I can't do something. How I've come too far to give in to those urges.

M. is proud of me--every week, I'm getting stronger, and more confident. More than that, I am proud of myself.