Want vs Need: Part 1

The Knickernator has got me thinking. When it comes to my health goals, I am absolutely clear about what I want. I set targets and goals, I research the best way to achieve them and, most amazingly, I get out there and do it. Why then can I not think so clearly about the other things in my life? It comes down to this: what I want is not always what I need. When it comes to exercise, I'm better at recognising which is which. I haven't yet learned how to do that with men (see part 2 for illustration)

I wanted to run (arthritic knees and all) and I have. Longest race to date is a half marathon. I might look at doing an ultra in the future (for I have a desire to do something epic) but for now, I'm focussed more on other things and just pleased to still be running regularly.

Strength training was something that floated in and out of my consciousness for years before I finally delved into it properly. I remember (probably around 2003) finding a book about strength training for women in a bargain bin, taking it home and looking at it. I remember thinking to myself how alien it all was and being a bit shocked at how muscular the models were in all the photographs. I then proceeded to casually faff about with purple dumbells (2kg!) and then consigned the book to the darker realms of the bookshelves. I found that book recently. I flicked through it and thought to myself that there was nothing there that I didn't know ... and I was shocked at how puny the models looked! Out of the three models, only one had noticeable definition. The other two just looked thin to me. This really brought home to me how much I needed strength training in my life. The body I want now is a strong body. The body I used to try and achieve was nothing so useful.

Eight years ago, when I first came across that book, I was underweight. After my son was born, it took me a while to get rid of the baby weight. Even once the excess was gone, I kept losing for a little while. I really struggled with my pregnancy body and I was relieved not to be big any more. I think of my body as a reflection of my inner self so seeing myself pregnant was like looking in the mirror and seeing someone else looking back at me. I had it in my head that once my son was born my body would go back to normal (yes, really) so when I looked down and saw what my body was like? I was devastated and I knew then that it was never going to be what it once was and so began the weight loss. If I had to have a horrible body then the less of it there was the better. Tie this in with a large whack of post-natal depression and what you end up with is the desire to keep getting smaller and smaller till you reach the point where you eventually just wink out of existence.

The PND went but still I couldn't shake the feeling that I would somehow be a better person if I was thinner (I think it was the malnourishment talking there!) It's not like having a problem with over-eating where you can go on for a long long time till you reach the end game. Under-eating is a finite affair - you can only get so small. By the time I finally managed to throw the brake lever, I was wearing kids clothes, had bones jutting out and had to sleep with a pillow between my knees because it hurt to have my bones rest on each other. I had heart palpitations and fainting was a regular occurrence. All that and I still felt worthless. There had to be a better way to try and attain some self worth. I have a child so I don't get to opt out of existence. I am here on this planet to take care of him and by extension I need to take care of myself. Lesson learned and I have no plans to ever say hello to my sternum again.

And so began the quest to make my body something useful. I like being strong. I like the way it makes my body look and feel. This might sound ridiculous but I envision the strength in my muscles as a source of light, each rep charging it up and making it glow brighter. I finish my workouts looking the little glowing dude in the old Ready Brek adverts :) It's a much happier way to be. I find that I don't mind that I'm not skinny anymore. I was never naked if I could help it when I was thin. These days, I strip off all the time. If I'm home alone then the kit is most definitely off! I even do my pull ups in my underwear. I have my pull up bar in my bedroom doorway and there is a mirror opposite it. I'm not hanging there worrying about the size of my thighs - I'm checking all my muscles working as I pull myself up and lower slowly down ... and it looks freaking awesome! I think my head has not quite caught up with my body yet. It's like looking at someone else but I like the way this person looks. When I finally get it into my head that it is really me, I'm going to be one happy lady.

Of course, the most worked out part of me is the one that spews words out and this has gotten lengthier than I intended. You will notice that this does tend to happen. I have more to say about wants vs needs, specifically why it might explain my colourful love life. That'll be part 2 I guess (and, help us all, it may well be even longer than this one)