I made it to the gym!

image credit Favorite Run Facebook Group

I have officially worked out more in February than I have in all of November – January.

Twice.

That’s barely anything in the grand scheme of things, but it’s huge compared to what I’ve been able to convince myself to do recently. In working with depression, I’ve decided to go with small steps.  For the month of February, I’ve decided to go to the gym at least once every week. 

And, in the spirit of encouragement, if I make my goal, I’m going to get myself a piece of swag from the gym’s pro-shop.

I’m going for encouragement and reward for realistic goals to hopefully avoid a shame spiral. 

One of the things that kept me from getting back to the gym sooner was the anxiety of what it would be like when I got back.  I go to a small-ish kickboxing gym where the trainers are really good about remembering people and making them feel like they’re excited to see you.  Accountability is a big thing with them (which, I obviously need) so if you haven’t been in for two weeks, they do a shout out in our private Facebook group (they tag a group of people, so you’re not singled out).  After I hadn’t been there for two months, I got a text from one of the trainers just checking up on me.

All in all, this is awesome, and I appreciate it.

But, a side effect of this, is I built up what my return would be like.  I was worried that someone would make a scene out of it (call me out in an effort to be supportive, mention how long it’s been since I’ve been in….) and I was anxious about the possible attention.  Being in a small gym there isn’t much anonymity. You recognize people from class and from our Facebook group.  The community is great, but I tend to have a hard time incorporating myself into groups (yay for being an introvert!) and then I get self-conscious about not being part of the group.

So, I talked with my husband and gave him permission to nag me and kick me out of bed if necessary because I want to get back in the game.

I picked a day I had off from work (to lower the pressure) and told him that I wanted to go to the 9 am class.  When my alarm went off at 7:30 and I didn’t get up, he called me on it.

I needed that.

I got up, got dressed, and arrived at class ready to go.

There was no fanfare, no shout out, no mention of how long it’d been…. it was just the usual “Hey! How are you?” and off we went.

Shock of all shocks, I had built it up into this big thing and then none of what I feared would happen, happened.

This morning, a week later, my husband was sick and sleeping on the couch and I got up, got dressed, and went to class all on my own.

It’s small. It’s trivial.  But it’s major.

To help treat my depression I’ve been using CDB oil daily, opting for sunlight and fresh air whenever possible (back door is open as we type), and now I’m getting exercise back into the game. Along with monthly gym goals, I’m setting a miles-per-month goal.  I’ve signed up for a Potterhead Running Club (formerly Hogwarts Running Club) virtual race and an in-person charity race.  Both races have finisher’s medals so I’m using those as my “rewards” when I finish them.  I’m aiming to do all the races for PHRC and use those as something that gets my working out outside.