Why I Started Working Out
(Despite My Hatred of Running)
Guess what guys? I can now do push ups. Seriously. Me and my weird, creepily–long arms can now do push ups.
I never liked working out. In high school my friends banned me from running because my form was so bad. It was an admittedly spectacular combination of splayed out ankles and angled feet. They all played soccer or ran track, and I sat quietly. I can honestly say I didn't do any physical activity for around five years, from ages 12 to 17. After a long stint doing yoga, I decided over this summer that I wanted to get strong. Disgustingly strong. Like, almost too strong.
So I started going to the gym. I started taking classes at Pottruck, small group training that lets me hang out with buddies while exercising.
There's something so, so rewarding about seeing tangible differences in your body and in your mindset. I love that I can walk into the gym, week by week, and count the number of sit ups I can now do, or measure exactly how many more pounds I can pick up (and then immediately drop, I'm still not that strong). It doesn't matter what I look like. It matters that I can carve out time in my day to do something that's just good for me. It's an hour when I can just focus on myself—not my school work, not my friends, not even Street (I know).
It's not so much the physical act of working out as it is the mental cleanse. And if I can now do some push ups? Even better.