As you can probably guess from my last post…I bit the bullet and got the class membership at the other gym. So.Psyched. Can’t wait to Zumba and Cardio Kickbox (& Strength!) and…wait for it…Spin.
I’m terrified of Spinning. I am not a fan of the bike, I usually have to make myself ride it, but I’m super intrigued by Spinning. So when the lady said the membership includes Spinning (I just have to take the Intro to Spinning tutorial session first) I was like, oh really…
But! One of my friends who is going to do the other classes with me has said that she is also afraid of Spinning, but curious and if I go she’ll go. So…I’m probably going to Spin.
Again I say, Who Am I?
This is messing with my identity–in the best possible way, mind you–but it’s messing with my sense of self. I’m not athletic. I’m not a runner. Well, I wasn’t. I didn’t used to be these things. But…I am now.
It hit me that I’m a runner about a week after my birthday when I was still on a high from that day’s run. The highpoint of my birthday was the run. I had a great birthday. It was lovely. But the highpoint was the run. And it’s something that a lot of people don’t understand because they don’t run. And it makes me a little uncomfortable to say it because I’m so used to getting the ‘look’ when I talk about running. You know the one–where people eyeball you up and down while politely continuing the conversation and you can tell that they don’t take you seriously as a runner.
The last incident of that happening was at a graduation party last year. I was heavier then. And I’d just run my worst 5k ever (I don’t think the two are completely unrelated). It hasn’t happened in awhile. Of course I haven’t seen the person in question for awhile either. But the memory of it stings, and it makes made me question myself as a runner. I’m trying to get over that, because I AM a runner. I’m not the fastest or the strongest, but I’m a runner, and damnit, and I’m proud of that.
Like long runs, or longer races, it’s mostly mental. You just have to believe, accept, and keep putting one foot in front of the other (so I’m told). Like with anything (well, except perhaps brain surgery or rocket science) you can’t over-think it. If I let myself think about it I will continue to convince myself that I’m not a runner, that I can’t possibly be a runner. Even though I have evidence to to contrary.
So I’m struggling to accept this new role, this new self image, this new self. But it’s who I am becoming, and I like it.
