This is Why I Workout...

Last night’s storm brought some minor damage to my hood. Everyone is safe and sound but the wind made itself known at Cottonwood Park, for sure. I had some damage to a shed that I am confident my neighbor can help me with.

One of my favorite sights of Springtime, right up there with the blooming buttercups and crocus, is my hood filling back up with the snowbirds who leave us behind to suffer the cold hard winter, while they bask in the Florida sunshine. Kidding, I love that for them. And it gives me a couple of options for a place to crash on a long weekend. But I really miss them.

Storms are my least favorite; too many viewings of Wizard of Oz as a little girl I suppose. I think I have some deep seated memories of my paternal aunt’s home being destroyed by a tornado in 1974, as well though.

So my golf clubs were in this little shed thing and I brought them inside the Barbie House to dry them and love them and maybe sage them. I then set out to gather all the parts, it fits together like a Lego set kind of. I actually was able to get it placed back together, it needs bigger screws, duck tape, maybe some beer and my neighbor Carl to guide me, and she’ll be good as she was before.

So while I was lifting and trying to line up the lid, between expletives flying freely, I thought to myself “this is why I workout.” I have to carry my own gear. I have to lift my own shit. And I’m cool with that. I deal with the consequences of the choices I’ve made. And that’s why I work out.

I think that many times in a week and I often say it out loud, “this is why we work out, ole girl.”

So this took me down a proverbial rabbit hole where I was presented with an opportunity for growth. You know me, I’m all about growth, so yes, bring yet another lesson to me, please.

Here’s what I sat with. I workout so that I can carry my own gear and baggage in life. Literally and figuratively. The gym brings me strength, yoga allows me to bend and flow through the situations I find myself in. Literally and figuratively. Walking on the bike path reminds me that there are far more important things than stuff in this life. Like trees. And relationships. And clarity. And peace.

The biggest lesson though, I think, is that it occurred to me that I never look in the mirror and say, “this is why I work out.” Usually I look in the mirror and say, “I wish this menopause belly would tighten up.” And then I beat myself up for drinking Busch Light and eating pizza. Once in a while, I say something like, “damn girl, those glutes are coming along nicely” or “nice guns, Super Girl”. I’m trying to be kinder and more loving to this body, and less critical and ungrateful.

This body has served me well. Very well, over the years, and she continues to show up and glow up every dang day. This body shows up at the gym and lifts heavy and bends and flows and proves to our mind constantly, that oh hell yes we can.

Us women in our fifties, we’re working out to take care of ourselves, to carry our own stuff, to pave our own way, to burn off some of the crazy. We’re buffing up our old lady bodies. We’re not trying to find a man, sometimes we’re trying to be prepared to fight off a man in the very likely event that we need to. We really prefer to hug a man’s neck and scratch his back, but we’re matching energy these days.

So ladies, let’s be kinder and more grateful for our bodies. They show up for us every day. They shut our doubts down and lift our spirits. Wear what makes you feel authentic and congruent with your beautiful soul. Live in the body you have, it’s the only one you’re gonna get.

Be confident in your skin. Smile and offer gratitude for this life and this body. Be sure of yourself and your values and beliefs. Be courageous and compassionate. And speak your truth, even if it’s only a whisper at first, nurture it until it becomes a shout, and then maybe a steady mantra. Confidence is not a size, it’s a state of mind and it’s sexy asf.

Be strong. Bend. Lift other women up. Support the good men out there. Love big. Live small. And if you need help carrying some gear, I’m here.

PS I went to the gym this afternoon, after writing this piece. I’ve been busting my ass in there lately and today a fellow gym girl commented on it. She gave me some very nice encouragement and then she said, “you look really strong.” That’s right up there with a guy a few weeks ago telling me “man you’re solid.” I made it a point to talk to Pam again and I thanked her and told her that she had made my day. Feels pretty good to this ole girl. That’s why I work out, strong and solid.