I was clinging by my
fingers and toes to a gravel covered ski slope called The Cliffhanger when I
started weeping. I was only halfway through one of the biggest challenges of my
life, Tough Mudder 2012. A 10-mile race with 21 obstacles that have been designed
by British Special Forces. I couldn't do this. I was crazy for trying. All I
could think was
“I am so outta of my
league.”
I wept for a few seconds
then started choking on dust and lack of oxygen. We were at 6,800 ft altitude
on the side of a mountain. Normally, I live at 16 ft altitude 8 blocks from the
Pacific Ocean. I reminded myself: don't cry—breathe.
As a child, I knew when
I died, I'd probably be buried in a piano box. The fire brigade would show up
at my trailer and cut me out of my bathroom where I had died on the toilet of a
massive heart attack. I was on my first diet at eight, and was officially
morbidly obese by the time I was 14.
Great
description—morbidly obese. I hated those words. It literally means deathly
fat. I was in Overeaters Anonymous for a while and I did the fearless moral
inventory which included a tally of all the major weight losses and gains in my
life. I had lost around 1,250 pounds, and gained around 1,450 pounds in my
lifetime. In 2006 I completed college. I had gained all my OA weight back and
was pushing 330lbs again. I looked into a gastric bypass. I binged during the
months before surgery and reached 360lbs by the day of surgery. I lost 180lbs
by 2009. Then I gained 20lbs, and plateaued out at 200lbs. I knew I had to
quit fighting myself and the scale. I had to focus on being healthy.
Long Beach had a Roller
Derby League at the time. They offered open team workouts, so I went. Kim B.,
the woman leading the workout, is a champion gymnast and Crossfit competitor.
She has college degrees in physical education and training. I decided to attend
her Badass Hour at a local park. I showed up, feeling like a donkey at the Kentucky
Derby. Everyone was dressed in tiny shorts and skintight capri workout pants. I
was in baggy sweats and a huge cotton t-shirt.
Lesson One: Buy good
workout clothes. Crappy couch wear doesn’t work. It hampers your movements,
hides your achievements, and the spandex helps hold stuff down.
I cringed at the sight
of these toned sweaty people. It was hard to throw down my yoga mat in front of
my classmates for the first time. No one belittled my efforts. They stood and
clapped when I made it back from the running circuits. No one ever complained
when I took longer to finish. I got countless high fives. Finally, I realized
the only ugliness was in my head. No one noticed when I lowered out of plank,
paused to catch my breath, or tripped on my own shoelaces. They were struggling
with themselves.
Lesson Two: You’re only
competing with one person—you. Don’t judge yourself against others. And BE NICE
to yourself. Even thinking nasty self-criticizing thoughts weakens you. Fight
back. Reply to your inner critic. Be your own advocate. Healthy brain=healthy
body.
I had moments of fear
and shame all the time. Fear that I if I box jumped onto a bench I’d trip and
knock my teeth out, shame that I couldn’t jump rope without tripping every 15
reps or peeing my pants just a smidge around 50 reps. I remember during a circuit
throwing a jump rope and stalking off to compose myself. I cried in
frustration. It was so hard to be a beginner, and to struggle to master skills
I should have mastered as a child. The next day I bought a jump rope.
Lesson Three: Always
wear black or highly patterned pants. When you hit the ground hard, you will
most likely pee your pants just a little. If you don’t-you’re not trying hard
enough. You will get a manky sweaty
butt stripe. It happens—get over it and keep going.
Kim told us there was a
challenge coming up. Tough Mudder: 10 miles, 21 obstacles. My friends at class
told me I could do it. I attended Sunday workouts. I worked harder than I have
ever worked in my life. Kim would tell us what we would do during the workout.
I snorted and would laugh.
“Okay. Sure.”
And then I would proceed
to do it. I would do it and do it hard, and I was amazed every time. The first
time I climbed an 8-foot wooden wall I squealed in fear. I would have been
embarrassed if I hadn’t been consumed in trying not to fall. My friend Brian
was at the top of the wall with me grinning, and giving me thumbs up. I dropped
to the other side and was euphoric.
Lesson Four: Don’t
assume you know your limits. You are way more awesome and dynamic than you give
yourself credit for. It’s okay to be afraid, it’s okay to laugh in disbelief,
but it’s not okay to not try. Push yourself—be your own superhero.
I was more terrified on
the day of the race than I had ever been of anything in my life. I’d worked my
butt off to get there. I’d never done anything like this before, and when I had
told people I was doing Tough Mudder they looked horrified. We started up the
first obstacle/hill, lovingly called the Death March. Everyone pulled ahead. I
was slogging toward a churning dust cloud of people lighter, stronger, and
faster than me. And that was how my day went. Falling further and further back.
After weeping four times
on the Cliffhanger, I eventually made it to the top. There I decided there was
no way I was walking off this course. I wanted my cheesy free t-shirt, and
horrid orange headband. I crossed the finish line with the last two competitors
on the field, 2.5 hours after my team crossed. The bands and crowds had gone
home. The beer garden was closed. The parking lot was empty. My husband sat on
a big rock near the finish line, with my friends. He hugged me hard.
A week later I was
sitting at a coffee shop with my yoga girlfriends. I was talking about how
disappointed I was with being last, how terrified I was of the water obstacles,
and how mad I was at my workout crew for telling me I was ready. I was a mess!
My friend Alyssa shushed
me. She took me to task for undercutting my achievement, for comparing myself
to others, and for not considering all the people who quit mid-race or didn’t
even show up. She assured me that I had
been out of my league, but then she told me something I think of every time I
think I’m out of my league.
Lesson Five: Always play
out of your league. How will you get any better if you don’t challenge
yourself?
