I ran again today. It’s hard to make something a habit when it feels like a sadistic way to make yourself healthy. But, alas, I ran anyway and that’s what counts. Something new occurred to me today though. I am my own cheerleader. I HAVE to be my own cheerleader. Because I don’t want to let myself down? Because I don’t want to be the chubby chick anymore? Yes to both. But there’s more. I have to be my own cheerleader because I want to be strong. And therefore, my mantra as I was running on my treadmill was “Strong is the new sexy”. Not new or unique, I realize, but it was a way for me to remind myself what I was working toward during the times I wanted to die during that run.
For instance, when I started my warm up, and I was all “I totally have this in the bag”, there was no mantra needed. I was awesome. And then the running began. And that’s when I got, shall we say, unawesome. And suddenly this out-of-shape southern belle started to notice her muscles aching. So I reminded myself “Strong is the new sexy”.
And five minutes later, when my lungs started to burn, I thought: “Gee…the word SUCK applies right now.” My lungs were on fire. Seriously. On fire. But I remembered my mantra. “Strong is the new sexy”, I told myself. So I dug deeper, and kept going.
At the 20 minute mark, I started to hate my life. I hated running. My legs hurt. I had sweat in my eyes. My deodorant had given out about 10 minutes ago, and now I was starting to smell. Lord knows I probably looked like a Shar Pei chasing a squirrel at high noon. But “Strong is the new sexy”, right?! And I want to be strong, right? Okay, who the heck am I kidding – I want to be SEXY! So I sucked it up, and somehow managed to finish the run. And ya know what? I felt good. Great, even!! And as I drug myself through my bedroom, I caught a glimpse of me in the mirror, covered in sweat. Had it running down my neck and my arms and my face. And I thought “Strong IS the new sexy”! And a few minutes later, when I got stuck in my sports bra because it wouldn’t come off over those sweaty arms, I thought….”Yeah, Cayce, you’re sexy alright. You’re just awesome.” I still think I sacrificed a layer of skin getting that thing off.
But ya know what? Later, when I was laying in the floor of my shower trying to convince myself to turn off the water and start my day, I reminded myself that I had survived my workout. And that meant I was one day stronger. Which means I am one day sexier too. And that sounds pretty awesome. : )