So... I never had to work out before because I always rode horses or walked across campus all day, so I could eat pretty much anything I wanted to, and never see any negavtive consequences... These days, not so much.
First year of vet school really took its toll on me, emotionally, as well as physically. I gained probably 15 lbs (too chicken to actually weigh in), and had to buy all new jeans at the beginning of the summer. Nothing fit and I was in denial that anything had even changed. Once I came to grips with reality, I knew I needed to do something to stop this cycle. A classmate of mine is married to a CrossFit trainer, and she had mentioned getting some of us together to get a group discount for classes. I was so embarassed by how I felt about myself that I was hesitant to even ask her about it, but I was still very interested.
After working hard all summer, I shed a few pounds, but nothing noticable. My classmate couldn't get enough people to commit, and no class got put together. I was disappointed because I know I had no idea where to start, and I knew I would need help, as well as motivation. It's way too easy to give up and I didn't want to let it get even worse. A friend of mine does CrossFit at a different box and mentioned that, if I was interested, he'd show me some things and help me get started. Well, long story short, I started training with him and I've gotten kind of hooked on it. They say it's addicting and once you "drink the Kool-Aid" you're done. I wouldn't say I've gone as far as some CFers I know, but I'm definitely sold on its benefits.
The transition from my school life to my home life was a bit more of a challenge. My family didn't really understand why I was lifting weights, or why I was running (I hate hate hate running), or why I was using something called a kettlebell... but opposition happens when something new is introduced. They saw how much stronger and leaner I had become over the past few months and were happy for me, but it took a while for them to understand why I was doing it. (It didn't help that there was a boy involved. But if they understood how hard this is for me and how utterly disgusting I look when I'm doing it, much less how unattractive I feel when I fail at it, they might not ask me about my motivations with regards to him).
When I came home for Christmas break, my car was loaded down with me, my Aussie puppy Abbey Road, my junk, and a brand new 35lb kettle bell, and some loaned out olympic weight bumper plates, some resistance bands, and my jump rope. If I wanted to keep the progression going in a forward direction, I needed to keep up with this. My friend has been so gracious to let me borrow these weights, has helped me through difficult transition times, and has provided instruction, critique, encouragement, and answers when I needed them the most. I am truly thankful for that. I can't afford to join a box right now, so he has pretty much taken the roll of personal trainer (gag me. I hate that label, but that's the best way to describe it, I think).
So, this break, it has been me, my bands, my rope, Mickey (I named the KB since it always looks like Mickey Mouse ears to me; I like yelling at him when I get frustrated), and my ghetto barbell set. I swing away in the barn aisle way, knocking out burpees in the dirt, slinging hay over my head when I practice double unders, and almost pulled down the stall door doing kips, but it makes me happy. I like being able to do these things in the privacy of my own home, no lines or muscle men to have to deal with, no worrying about what I look like in front of people, no worries. The downside is the motivation to meet someone at the gym is not there. There's no one but myself to let down or break a training date, no one to push me to squat deeper or jump higher. It's been a good test to see how committed I really am. Commitment. Interesting...
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