I’m just going to say it: I’m not naturally athletic. I’m not! And I’ve never tried to be. Being the kid with glasses, and having zero hand-eye coordination puts you at a huge disadvantage for being picked for teams in high school PE. To be honest, my favourite unit in gym class was square dancing. For two reasons:
- I got to hold hands with my crush(es)
- I actually succeeded at learning the steps of this “sport”
And yes, I realize that I am a personal trainer. And you know what? It’s my passion. But if you would have told noodly-armed 12 year old Kat that she’d be running her own fitness business in the future, then she probably would have burst out laughing. To read more about my journey into the fitness industry, please visit my bio on business website right here.
But I digress…
So I started running. I’ve had this crazy goal of running a 45 minute 10K for, God, YEARS! There’s always been one thing keeping me from working towards, and eventually achieving this goal: I hate running.
I dread the initial pep talk I have to have with myself before I get out there. It usually goes a little something like this: “Get up, off your ass, and go for a run! No one’s going to do it for you, princess. You have legs, fucking, USE them.” By no means is this a positive internal dialogue. And most of the time I roll my eyes and mutter, “Ugh, SHUT UP!” and don’t go.
But this year I have one major change going on in my life that will subsequently effect the rest of my future. I’m getting married! This means that I will have my own little family. It excites me, and terrifies me. I mean, pretty soon I’ll have my own kids. I will be their role model. That’s a lot of pressure of a type-A perfectionist! Let’s just say it’s lighting the fire under my ass to pull myself together and start achieving the goals I had set out for myself.
My goal of running a 45 minute 10K is so much more than just that. It is a metaphor for me to break free of all of my doubts about myself. It is proof that if I stick with something consistently, even when it really sucks, and hurts, and pisses me off, I will still come out stronger. It is the breaking of a bad habit. The bad habit of letting something as simple as an activity dictate how I feel about myself. Will I be the best runner by the end of this journey? Probably not. I highly doubt I’ll be qualifying in my age group for any seriously competitive races. But I will be the best runner that I’ve ever been. And that is enough for me.
This is my year of stepping out of my comfort zones. This is my year of pushing my physical limits to see what my amazing body is capable of. This is my year of putting myself in uncomfortable situations (such as choreographed dancing, more on that later) in order to not get stuck in my ways. This is my year to really see what I’m capable of when I stop caring so much about what others think of me, and just do ME.