Wednesday, June 05, 2013
I'm not going to lie. The first eight minutes on the treadmill wanted to defeat me. I felt despair wash over me as I kept glancing down at the clock, noticing it hadn't moved much since my last peek.
"I won't make it," I kept telling myself. It's too hard. My back hurts. I can't breathe. My heart will explode.
This was at a pace of 2 miles per hour, and it was my first attempt at exercising and moving my body in a very long time. And I weigh over 400 pounds.
I kept going. I don't know how or why, but I started getting angry. I didn't want to stop, be defeated. Yes, I did want to stop hurting. And I did very much dislike the pain in my back. But I felt like I could do a mile so I kept at it, watching the tvs and trying not to pay so much attention to time. Suddenly 18 minutes had passed. I could make it to 20, right?
Then 22! Maybe I could limp over the 25 minute mark. And when I did, well...why not just try for 30? I kept inching myself along and finally made it to a mile and 31 minutes on the treadmill. It took a little longer because I slowed the machine down a touch instead of stopping entirely.
It felt great! Well, physically it felt terrible but inside I felt so strong. But the first eight minutes...I know if I can get past those minutes I can make it a mile.