As y’all know- last year my really late new year’s
resolution (aka pouting over clothes that no longer fit- in the negative sense)
led to me joining Weight Watchers and shedding almost 20 lbs. I have kept it
off mostly (give or take 3 lbs) for about a year now and I still can’t believe
how good it feels or that I did it. During a bad eating week, I wonder if I
will wake up and boom- it’s all back. But no, I seem to have found a happy
balance between portion control and wine and chocolate J
Then this year came along (rather quickly I might add) and I
thought “Well, it’s all fine and dandy to lose weight, but what about some
fitness? Girl, you are *seriously* lacking in the fitness department.” Again I
thought of my kids, and how I wanted them to see me. How I wanted to be looked
up to in a sense of living the life I am trying so hard to foster in my
children. What good is it to tell my kids to be active and healthy if I wasn't
able or willing to do it myself?
As I cast around for something to really challenge me, something
un-Meghan like to pull me out of my comfort zone and give me a good reason to
put my mind to it and get ‘er done with a sense of pride and accomplishment; I
remembered something.. A race that involved mud and a bit of insanity..
Something a dear friend of mine once said she’d be into trying. I googled the
Spartan Race, found that there was indeed a sprint (5k) in Montreal and I had 5
months to get into race mode. Hmm.. but how to make sure I don’t chicken out? I
know! Get others to do it with me! Over the next while, the Spartaculars were
born and I was now equipped with a motley crew as hell bent on accomplishing
this as I was J
Now, when I say this Race was un-me, I am not kidding. I
even said “ew” for the first 10-20 minutes of the race, until I hit the barbed
wire section. Then it was “aw.. what the hell”.. anyway, I started to train, lightly at first..
trying to get my cardio up with dance classes, sledding, snurfing (well.. only
sorta-kinda) and running. I met with a trainer who gave me weight exercises to
work on and I embarked on a horribly erratic and nowhere near often enough training
regime. But I was optimistic.
Then all of a sudden; it was May. 3 weeks to go, then 2, then I was wondering; what in god’s
name had I signed us up for?? Then.. It was May 25. A cold and dreary day after
2 weeks of cold and rain, and I was really starting to panic. What was I
thinking? What if hypothermia sets in? What if I fall and break a bone? How the
hell was I (little, not really active, me) going to pull this off? But I had my
team. And that helped more than anything else, I felt more sure of myself with
them, felt better when they admitted they were nervous and unsure of it all
themselves. And to be honest, I felt
like if I could get through this, really do it and finish it… man, I could do
anything.
Now, you’ve seen the pictures of a good handful of the
challenges (thankfully there is not one of me being lifted off the ground by a
cement block on a rope rather than me being able to lift it). It really was as
cold and wet and difficult as it looked. But we kept at it, and for some reason
almost all of the pictures have me smiling in them (the others have me looking
terrified, but you know…), and I think it’s because I could not *believe* I was
doing this crazy harebrained thing I had mentioned in an email over 5 months
ago! I could not believe I was actually achieving my own personal challenge,
and doing it with the 3 best ladies ever! And really, what else can put a genuine smile on one’s face than that
kind of accomplishment?
I have to say, the icing on the cake was when I tucked my
little girl into bed that night and as she rolled over she said “mommy, it was
so cool seeing you run up and down the mountain”.
And that right there, folks, is what it is all about.
