The majority of my life was spent outside and in the woods behind my house, just because that's what was there. I grew up on a farm, so there was always some chore to do that was heavy lifting of some kind.
I was put into gymnastics when I was 5 or 6, then I was switched to ballet classes when I was 8. Outside of that, I played little league baseball and town league soccer. I also did Karate with my siblings and dad at a local dojo. I was always moving around as a kid, and wow, my metabolism was great. So I was unintentionally athletic.
By the time I was in high school, I was finished with baseball and soccer. Karate lasted only a few years after that before I was concussed from a kick to the head and stopped that as well.
However, I kept up with the dance classes. I definitely noticed a difference in my body and also my demeanor when I stopped playing all those sports. I noticed that overall, my body was weaker, and more easily hurt and injured. And mentally, I was less motivated to succeed in anything involving school.
When I graduated high school and stopped dancing, I went away to college, and I didn’t pick up anything there. I wasn’t particularly good at any sports that I could play at a college level, so I didn't even try. I realized after a while that I was really missing that part of my life. Not to mention my self-esteem was significantly lowered every time I got winded going up and down stairs.
Along with other struggles that school brought me, not having anything to physically engage in was making me hate the person I was and the things I was doing. I didn’t find any fulfillment from school, and overall, I was stuck in a rut and I identified myself as unable to do anything good with my time or lack of talent.
After becoming a missionary, I realized that I was going to be working out A TON. So I did my best to take it all as it came, and even though I struggled to keep up in the majority of our high intensity workouts, I became so grateful for them. For the first 3 or 4 weeks, I was so sore that I thought I’d never recover. I realize I was being dramatic, but to be honest, I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to be that sore.
After my first year, I came to love the workouts. And although the early mornings always made me dread them, I really was seeing the benefits and purpose of engaging my whole body in my life again. My stamina and endurance were growing, my muscles were coming back, and I even found I had new muscles! I was so grateful that I was feeling strong and able-bodied again.
I must mention that doing these workouts brought back a few old injuries from dancing. And it showed me some new things about my body that I never knew, like how I have exercise induced asthma. Overall, I am still grateful for the workouts, they have taught me about the glory of the human body that God has created and given to each one of us. When I went home for quarantine and the summer, I did not do a good job at all of working out on my own. Yet at the end of summer, I still managed to dislocate one of my ribs. Literally a week before I came back, and it wasn’t even in a cool way, someone literally hugged and spun me, while squeezing me too hard. Apparently that’s possible. So what the heck. What do you even do for a dislocated rib?
Well to be completely honest, I went back into the workouts here without hesitation. I jumped back in full force, and even discovered that my body was so much stronger than the year before and I could do more; I was faster and could go longer. I was a beast for two months. I was so pumped to be back and to get jacked.
Then I started to hurt more. And not just my back, but my shoulder, and my chest. I realized that maybe I should be taking this injury more seriously. So I stopped the workouts. I found I had to even stop lifting heavy things. I had to stop doing lots of things. It would even hurt too badly to wear a backpack the right way. I had to let the other missionaries do most of those things for me and without me. All I could do now was watch.
And so for the past few months I have been watching. Watching my body grow weaker again, watching my spirit fall into a more depressive state. More times than not, I have felt just like I did back at school when I wasn’t able to do much of anything, without realizing how weak I was. My endurance for even the smallest things has gone away and I feel so powerless.
As I watch my team workout, I find the only things I can do is encourage them to keep going, to offer up my frustration for others, and stretch. Yes, this is something I am still struggling with, but I cannot deny that I see God moving even amidst my inability to move very much. While it can feel exactly like it did when I was really struggling with myself, I now have the mental strength and community to support me where before I was alone.
I am grateful for my inability to workout at this point, because while it sucks, I can see how much God has given me in only a couple years. This struggle shows me that I have grown, I have come so far in my personal formation and faith life that I know who I can turn to. I am grateful for my injury, regardless of how I still miss working out with my community so much. I think God is handing me an opportunity with this, to be humble and learn more about how He is able where I am not.
Photo Credits:
https://unsplash.com/photos/PHIgYUGQPvU
https://unsplash.com/photos/1S0-pHmQ-TY
https://unsplash.com/photos/-C_w-Oa57Zk
https://unsplash.com/photos/c59hEeerAaI
https://unsplash.com/photos/qxYDhV0rBPk
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https://unsplash.com/photos/g6E1x2TfpJk
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