Saturday was measurements-day. And it went a little bit in the wrong direction. Every time my measurements have been due, I’ve been told that things might not have changed much because I was bound to hit a plateau eventually. But I kept losing weight and I kept dropping body fat, to everyone’s surprise. Until yesterday, my first encounter with a rise in both weight and a rise in body fat. It’s embarrassing to admit, but I got angry.
Combine a rough week with something you didn’t expect, and you’ll find Marita crying in the gym office. The one place in this world that I consider to be my place, the one place where I turn my brain off and fully focus on what I enjoy doing. But not this time, tears. Everywhere.
Luckily, I have the best support system in the world. When was the last time you took a week off working out? Nathan asked me. I tried suggesting when I went to Noosa, but no, I worked out everyday there too. So I couldn’t remember. December 2012 would probably be the last time I had a rest-week. You even came in a did vigorous exercise when you were injured. Yeah I know, and he’s right. Of course he’s right.
So he took his time, made diagrams, explained how the body of an athlete works, how you need rest to be able to fully benefit from what you do the rest of the year, how constantly pushing limits and ignoring aches will lead to the body breaking down instead of re-building itself. And you know what the most annoying thing is? I know all this. I’m, in fact, fully aware of it.
Here I am, telling you guys not to obsess over your weight, but what do I do? Start crying because I’ve gained 2 kg. It’s ridiculous. He had to remind me that I’m a lot stronger now than what I was 6 weeks ago, I’m pushing 80kg with my own ass, I do pull-ups with help from a person rather than on a machine, I can finally do bloody pushups on my toes. I get out of bed and go to bootcamp before the sun is even up. 2kg of fat isn’t helping me do that. My muscles are. My diet is almost impeccable, I love working out, I’m healthy. I shouldn’t be crying in the place I love the most. But I was.
After a bit of arguing, I realized I couldn’t do much but listen. I got sent home, leg-day got cancelled and for the next couple of weeks I’m only allowed to do bootcamp. And maybe yoga. No body balance, no weights, no intervals, no afternoon-cardio. I get to walk, not for the sake of the exercise, but because I enjoy walking. And the same goes for other activities, go ice-skating, you like that, he said.
I spent Saturday being upset, trying to find a way to fool the system. Surely I was just having a bad day and could do gym again soon. But when PT-Daniel called and said they were only trying to help me, I realized there was no point doing anything but listen and comply to what they ordered me to do. All I want is a healthy body and mind.
Only a couple of days ago both housemate Line and my friend Ina told me to be careful, make sure I didn’t hit a wall or become dangerously addicted. I ensured them that that wouldn’t happen. But it did. I think sometimes we just need somebody with authority to tell us to slow down. I don’t want exercise and nutrition to be an obsessive thing, it’s not supposed to be something that controls me. It’s supposed to be my break from reality.
I’m still trying to figure out what I’m gonna spend all this time doing now that I’m banned from the gym, but I guess the fact that I’ll be studying to become a personal trainer this summer will keep my brain occupied a bit. I’ve put my heart rate monitor away, my ShapeUp app is closed. Let’s just learn to listen to our bodies, shall we?