I did it. I finally went back to my beloved kickboxing class after more than two months of being gone. It felt so good. I was able to keep up with the class and kick a little booty along the way. Granted, I wasn’t back to 100%, but more than ever I feel like I’m on the right track.
I had surgery in mid February, which coincidentally, is when I started this blog. I had it all worked out in my head. I would have the surgery and be back in fighting shape in less than a month. That could not have been further from the reality of what actually happened.
The challenges I faced these past two months were mental, emotional, and physical, all at once. I felt (and still feel) more soreness and pain than I expected at this point. Granted, this is the first time I’ve been through this process, but I assumed the hurting would be long gone by now. Wrong. That in itself, is frustrating enough. Add to it the fact that I strained a muscle pushing a crib around 11 days post op. Again, not the quick and painless return I had hoped for.
The crushing blow was that I wasn’t able to partake in my normal activities. Just the other day I was feeling particularly grumpy, and grumpy Sarah kept hinting that I needed to punch something. Stat. Something in the realm of a punching bag. Which brings me to my personal escape, “I Love Kickboxing.”
When I first found this place I was instantly hooked. It was something that got me out of the house and into shape. No wonder I missed it. I could feel the void that being active and feeling strong had filled, more than ever.
Before I started going back to class, I would occasionally stop in and say hello to the kickboxing family. One time I was talking to my friend Jaclyn and mentioned how nervous I was to start up again and how I probably couldn’t do much at all. She said something that stuck with me, “you would be surprised what your body is capable of if you just give it a chance”. So true. A short while ago I was cleared to return to normal activities, but I wasn’t making a move. What was holding me back? Fear. Fear of getting hurt or injuring the delicate muscles, yes, but it went deeper than that. I was afraid to fail.
Because of that fear, I was simply not trying. And it was beginning to affect me in all areas of my life. The more I held myself back, the less living I was actually doing. I knew this was a slippery slope that led to nowhere I wanted to go. So, I had to act. Fast forward to today. I went to class.
Heading into my first day back I felt anxious. Not to mention self conscious. Before surgery, I was beginning to find my kickboxing rhythm. Today, it felt like I was starting from scratch. New instructors and students wouldn’t know me and I would be that girl who can’t even do one pushup. Needless to say I was setting myself up to fail.
Luckily I had my husband with me for support and that helped a lot. In the end my fears were unfounded and I feel like I was able to find that delicate balance of pushing myself while listening to my body and being respectful of its limitations. I truly did surprise myself with what my body and mind were capable of. That’s a good feeling.
I believe what I learned today can apply to pretty much everything that we approach in life. Whether it’s a new workout or a new job, all we can do is try our best. We are never going to be perfect or the best at everything we attempt. But to me, the win is in the trying. This opens up so many possibilities in life.
Eleanor Roosevelt once said, ”do one thing everyday that scares you”. Every time I read that quote it strikes a nerve and I feel empowered. I want to live that way. Not just sometimes or when it’s easy. I want to take advantage of the opportunities in front of me and see what I can do. Bring it life.
