I’ve just come from the gym where I’ve been training on my own for the first time since Piete is away for two weeks. This was the fourth day on my own. He wrote out some workouts for me to do in his absence. So far it’s felt fairly easy compared to what we usually do which is weird because it’s the same stuff we usually do together and I’ve been scared to do it on my own.
Yesterday I was supposed to take a break but I didn’t feel like it as I wasn’t tired or sore. Tonight, cycling to the boxing gym, I knew that was a mistake as it started raining and I realised I was hungry and exhausted but the boxing gym isn’t on my way home so I felt committed to train.
I can’t box as I hurt my shoulder so I’m just on my own in a little weight room, alone, below the boxing ring. Warming up I was like there’s no way. Three sets into a total of eleven I was like definitely no way.
The usual barrage of mental abuse began in my head. Punishing thoughts that I had during my tattoo and have during especially tough training sessions. Reliving what I can’t remember is the only way to heal type of nonsense. Or just use my anger to heal.
I just felt weak and hungry, but something in me, stubbornness perhaps, pushed me on.
Then, around set five or so, I felt a voice, heard a thought, say, “you are not fed on bread alone. Breathe.” Inhaling was like food, nourishment to my body.
Facing that once dreadful mirror and stepping up onto the box again, I felt the same voice reassuring me, “the goal is not punishment. I am not your enemy. The mind is not the one who controls you. Fight through the body, not against the body.”
Part of this was from something Pastor Matt (from Exodus) once said about fasting. “Stomach, you are not the boss.”
“Trust the body. Have faith that the body is stronger than the mind believes. Faith without action is dead.”
And thought (ala Eminem “till my legs give out”) either I pass out or I keep moving. So I moved. It was grueling to say the least but I got through the workout in record timing and now I feel fantastic. The desperation of before is gone.
On the ride home I felt like I’d awoke from a dream and couldn’t figure out what it all meant. Until I saw the caption in the title above from a picture a friend sent. And now it makes perfect sense.