Why I Continue to Lift

Why I Continue to Lift:  Part 2 of 3

   People react to my gym habits in a few ways:

1. Enthusiasm and comradery
2. Astonishment and bewildery
3. Distain and judgement
4. Apathy and avoidance- even rejection

    The first reaction makes me feel connected to an undiscovered community that both delights and terrifies me.  I've never made friends easily.  Shockingly, as Science Super Bowl team captain and Game Club organizer, I was not a favorite or even noticeable member of the herd.  I had a few close friends growing up, but the only collective memory of me is "that shy girl".  When I get noticed or even commended on my performance in a gym, I get so giddy.  Often the achievements themselves are not particularly noteworthy, but the shout-out means that I exist on the radar in that moment, and that metallic solidarity gives me a place somewhere where I can contribute value via my efforts.  

   The second reaction makes me feel like I have an alter-ego.  I have been into comic books since I was a kid.  It all started with trading X-Men cards with the neighborhood kids.  Something about the diversity of X-Men and the mutant powers that even women in that universe had thrilled and delighted me.  I am probably way too old to be dressing up like my childhood idols now, but I've adopted a YOLO attitude when it comes to outside perception of my behavior.  The more I lifted weights and became stronger, the more connected I became to those super women.  I became more unusual, and I developed almost an alter-ego.  I can be business/educator Bunny:  Wearing button up shirts, smiling prettily, one part quiet librarian/ one part lady TED talker.  Then I can break it down and wear a bodycon Marvel dress that shows off my traps and lats with a pair of strappy red heels that make my legs scream quadzilla.  

   The third reaction is becoming my favorite.  I have always struggled with the way others perceive me.  I have spent most of my life modifying my behavior to avoid conflict, to blend in and be generally tolerated.  This inclination has been a total waste of most of my energy.  I think I became most aware of my capitulating tendencies when I started building my body athletically.  I got a lot of resistance from close friends and family.  You'll get big and gross.  You're gonna get hurt.  Guys don't like muscles.  You spend too much time at the gym.  Gym is a waste of money.  For a long time, I let all of these criticisms pick at my pleasure.  I was afraid to test my physical limits.  I felt guilty for putting resources into fitness.  Somewhere along my journey, I realized that what I was doing with my body was making me a better person.  I have never been happier, stronger, more confident and healthier.  I am defying these critiques and making this journey my own, and I am taking it upon myself to inspire others to shut out the nay-sayers.  Take that resistance and realize that power comes from within.  Sustainable motivation starts and ends with yourself.  Opposition exists so that we can struggle and experience the value of what we have and what we want.  I absorb all of the negativity like sunlight and make it my fuel for progress.  

   The fourth and final reaction took me the longest to cope with.  Not everyone is going to dig my style, my hobbies or my motivations.  I am recently more ok with this (probably not completely).  My overweight relative living in BFE, USA might not want to see my bare midriff.  They might even straight up tell me, or pass it through a granny-gram that I am conceited and frivolous.  I might get my news-feed blocked, I might even get unfriended!  Oh the humanity.  Eyes might roll away from me in a conversation.  These things happen.  The world is not ending.  I have learned that the people who love and support me will always be present as long as I am happy and healthy.  Even with my weird interests and spontaneous (often fickle) enthusiasm.  I have decided that I am going to put myself out there for me, and maybe the precious few who might get enlivened or rejuvenated by what I have to offer.        

   I continue to lift because I freaking enjoy it.  I love crushing it at the gym.  I love flexing in the mirror and noticing new definition and striation.  I am so bummed that I never took a real start picture.  At the top of the page I posted a side by side- the left was 3/2015 the right was 9/2013.  I was already a few months into lifting, but that moment was really the first time I had the guts to post my post-baby belly publicly.  It was the first time I felt compelled to ever take a semi-revealing photo of myself.  For years I hid in (and from) photos because I felt unremarkable and forgettable.  Lifting has given me the confidence to bare-all... nearly   ;)

                                                

   Go out today and do what makes you feel better, stronger and more confident.  I plan on wearing a crop top to a festival for the first time in my life this Saturday.  Check my Instagram for updates.  Let me know what motivates you, how you cope with opposition, and what inspires you to achieve more.  Have a great week!

 

BunnyBarbell: An Origin Story

        Why I Lift:  Part 1 of 3

      I have been lifting for over two years now, and some of my favorite moments are when friends and strangers motivate and thank me for sharing my journey.  I have been sitting on the idea of starting a blog for a while.  At first I thought that my viewpoint was over-played and unoriginal, and this kept me from seeing the importance or relevance of my perspective in a field full of fit moms and would-be figure pros.  I am a mom, and I started lifting shortly after leaving my husband, but I'm deeper than that.  Perhaps sharing this story can help other women and men find bliss and release in a healthier lifestyle.

      I have never been particularly athletic.  When I was 8, I asked to join a basketball team.  My mother took me to all the practices, all the games, and I thoroughly enjoyed having a team full of friends, running back and forth, not being stuck inside with my nose in a book.  Eventually, the coach pulled my mom aside and said, "Jessica does not have a competitive spirit.  Basketball might not be her thing."  I was just getting into singing lessons, so this didn't come as a major blow to my extracurricular endeavors.  Looking back, I know that this is absolutely true.  The only competition I was comfortable with was with myself.  On Trivia teams, I was more terrified of wrong answers than I was afraid of my opponents.  I dabbled in cross-country, but stress on my knees put me out of long distance running early.

      As the brainy, quiet nerd, I grew accustomed to being ignored and assumed to be weak.  I believed that my intelligence was my only superpower, and that focus was the beginning of my ignorance of my body.  At some point in my journey to womanhood, I even began to fear it.  I was lanky when I was young, and as I grew older my awkward nature disguised my unawakened grace and complexity.

    Shortly after I graduated high school, I was assaulted.  Any hope I had of loving my body, or feeling comfortable sharing it with another was obliterated.  I allowed this one event to shape most of my adult life.  I lost my sense of control, beauty and purpose.  I fostered an unhealthy ability to dissociate from reality, as if to erase or temporarily change my past in an effort to progress my future.  I quit school because the stress and memories shattered my veil and constantly brought that reality back.  I hid in a marriage that was unproductive and unhealthy because it was easy.

      My life changed when I started fighting back.  I left my husband and started kicking buns in school.  I met the love of my life in a Calculus class.  Eventually I got tired of him leaving me at home while he lifted.  I bought new running shoes from K-Mart, and stuck to my comfort zone on an elliptical while he pumped iron in the sweaty, steamy weight room.  I had the same preconceived notion almost every other lady had- Lifting makes you look like a dude and can get you hurt.  Eventually he promised me he wouldn't push me very hard, and I can always stop before I get cut like Arnold (now I realize he was trying to groom a swolemate).

      Fast-forward a few years and here I sit without defined abs, I still have a very feminine jaw-line and now sport a 225 sumo deadlift.  None of these things are impressive, but my successes in the gym do not have to be.  I am not in there competing with the world.  When I am in that gym, I am fighting my past- pushing all of my pent up rage into controlling that darn barbell.

     I am fighting for my future, and now I am working towards empowering others to get up and throw something around in a healthy way.  Whether it be rage, or joy or even complete zen that motivates you, allow yourself the freedom to keep moving towards a better life.  I am such a quiet and reserved person, but in that gym I growl at heavy weight, I scowl while pressing 40+ pounds over my head, and I turn heads with my determination and solid form.

                        I lift because I am stronger every day.  I am stronger everyday because I lift.