She Laughed...

The new year always brings so much anticipation. New goals. New dreams. New start. The girls and I started a tradition last year where we made "Rememberlutions Jars." Rather than making resolutions, Amelia decided it was terrible to focus on flaws we needed to fix and we needed to focus on the positives. So every day, we write down the best part of our day and put it in our jar and on New Year's Eve the next year, we read through our year. I love this tradition we started. 

This year, the jars were changed and prepared for another year of memories to share with each other. But I felt like I also needed to make some changes. Some resolutions to get my focus back for things that are important to me. Things I need to work on. Things I need to fix in my life. So I made some resolutions for myself. I'm sure the list looks similar to yours: lose weight, exercise, plan my meals every week, save money, keep my house picked up and clean, read my Bible and do a devotion every day...there's more but baby steps, right?! I need goals to help me focus. To keep me grounded. To help myself feel like I have a purpose. 

The biggest one for me? Losing weight and exercising. Most of you know I've had a weight problem my whole life. I've always been heavier. Bigger boned as people would tell me when I was younger to make me feel better. My weight has been a yo-yo as long as I can remember. I remember being mortified in high school when my volleyball coach had us all stand in a line and step on the scale to see 240 as a sophomore. And I'll never forget the day I first walked into a WeightWatchers meeting some 15 years ago and they handed me my weigh-in book. The sticker said 361.6. I couldn't believe what I had done to myself. Thankfully, I'm not the 360 pound girl I was. Sadly though, I'm not down to that 240 pound sophomore either. So, I've committed myself to losing weight. I joined WeightWatchers officially again in September and go to meetings. And I'm almost 20 pounds down since then. Still yo-yoing but overall heading down. 

But I decided I needed to step up my exercise. I despise exercise. I hurt. It hurts. It's not fun. I hate it. But I decided I needed to add it in. So I downloaded a Couch to 5K app and I started on Monday. 

You all know my Amelia to be loving, kind, compassionate, caring, sympathetic...all of those things. She is an amazing person and I cherish her beyond measure.  She is also human. She and Emerson were on my bed as I pulled on my leggings and tank top and laced my shoes. I started the treadmill at my walking warm-up. Then, five minutes into it, it was time to do a one minute run. I pushed the button to make the treadmill go faster and started my chubby, awkward running. I was very conscious of my joints, feeling them pulling and stretching and grinding. I had a million thoughts running through my head: Can I do this? Is my hip going to hold up under my weight? Is the floor going to fall through? And suddenly, I realized that Amelia was laughing. I turned to look at her and she was looking at me. She laughed...

I asked her what she was laughing at. She said "You. You look funny." And I immediately started fighting back tears. I knew she must be right. All the negative thoughts I've ever had and all the fat comments I've heard and read came flooding back into my head. I scowled at her and took a breath and steadied my voice and sternly said "You are insulting me and you are embarrassing me. I am doing my best and if you can't say encouraging things, please leave my room." I could tell by her face that she knew as soon as the words left her lips it was the wrong thing to say. I could see her silently wishing she could pull the words back. But it was too late. 

For the rest of my thirty minute walk/run thoughts whirled in my head. Good and encouraging thoughts. Bad and self-defeating thoughts. Towards the end though I found a determination. I needed to use this as motivation. I never wanted anyone, but especially my children, to look at me running and laugh and say I looked funny. This was what I needed to keep going. 

As the treadmill wound down, I grabbed a towel and sat next to Amelia on my bed, her head hanging low. She immediately said "I'm sorry." 

"I know. But you really hurt my feelings."

"I didn't mean to laugh. I just have never seen you run."

Tears stung my eyes. Not because her words were mean now, but because her words were true. I don't run. I barely walk sometimes. When the girls are running and playing, I'm following them around the yard with a lawn chair. When my sister is playing tag with them, I'm sitting on a bench. When they're playing chase at the park, I'm at the picnic table. She was right. 

And then my next thought was how much time I've already lost with my precious babies. Emerson is five and Amelia is eight. Let's assume that I've been the best mom for all of those years mentally and emotionally (that's not true, but let's just pick on me for one reason right now) So let's assume that. Physically I haven't been there for them. I haven't been with them for a lot of things because it's too physical. So, that conversation, paired with the stinging pain of Amelia's laughter, is driving me to better myself. To keep going. To keep running, even if I look funny. 

So, Day Two 5K training happened.  I was on the treadmill and my girls were both sitting on the bed watching me.  Emerson says, "Mommy, I can't wait for summertime when you'll be able to play tag with us instead of just watching."  Tears again...because THAT is going to be the inspiration and the audiotape that I'm playing in my head.  My girls are 5 and 8.  Soon, they will be too old to want to play tag with me, or run around in the yard.  I don't want to watch that time slip away any more!  I'm running...and walking...and eating better...for myself, but also for those two little girls.  And my implications are even greater, because I'm all they have.  Their father killed himself five years ago.  I am their only parent.  They are counting on me to fight and stay alive and raise them.  So...for them...I'm running. 

She laughed...and she most likely lit the spark that will save my life. The spark that got me back on the treadmill tonight and will get me on the treadmill next week. She isn't mean. She doesn't like to hurt anyone's feelings. I think perhaps the message she sent me was meant to be said. Some divine intervention to get me moving. So I can be alive to watch my girls grow up. I will keep running. And I will get stronger. And I will build muscle. And the weight will melt off of me. And I'll get the last laugh...