There are few things as frustrating as my thwarted efforts at exercise. I KNOW the innumerable benefits that come by way of physical activity and I long for all of them (better sleep, more energy, less stress, greater muscle tone...). Despite my knowledge of just how fabulous exercise is, these days, I’m lucky if I make it to the gym once per week. This morning reminded me why.
Saturday is the one golden day where I can go first thing in the morning before I’ve spent all my energy on work, kids, and being pregnant. Now don’t get me wrong, I still have to drag my butt there, but at least it’s within the realm of possibility. This morning, I did just that. I rounded the troups with unusual efficiency and precision. We actually made it to the car on time. Well, technically, we were 15 minutes late, but just on-time enough. I could still plan to make it within the first five minutes of step class and hope to discover a little sliver of space in the room to allow me to participate. The kids were buckled in and, with the exception of my untied shoes, I was ready to roll. I looked around to the faces of the little people I call my children and was filled with gratitude. “Kids... Thank you so much for getting ready so quickly today. I am very happy to make it to my class on time!”
It was at this point that I attempted to turn over the key that we might be on our way. That is, only to discover the battery was dead. Despite numerous instructions regarding the interior car lights, the two year old had apparently managed to turn them all on YESTERDAY leaving us stranded. Feeling deflated, I called my husband who was well on his way to soccer. He was gracious enough to return home and give me a jump. While we waited, me and my kids pushed the giant SUV out of the garage (not without incident, or should I say multiple incidents), located the jumper cables, and popped the hood. Within ten minutes, we had recovered power to our car and were on the road. As good fortune would have it, despite my extreme tardiness to the class, there were problems getting the instructor’s mic to work. Lo and behold, we were ALL ready to start at the same time. Relishing in yet another fortuitous moment, I thanked God for the chance to exercise.
As it turned out, I don’t think I knew what I was thanking God for. While pregnancies one, two, and three could tolerate step, pregnancy four cannot. The bouncing of my stomach felt like it might relocate the fetus to knee height. Worse yet, it was ripping every abdominal muscle and ligament I own. I hung in there with a pained grin. Having worked so hard to get there, I wasn’t leaving now! I struggled for a good 20 minutes until I just couldn’t take it anymore. My reasonable side forced the rest of me to admit that injuries happen when people do dumb things like this. I swallowed my feelings of defeat, choking on them like nails, and put away my stuff that I might “retire” to the stationary bike. I reluctantly accepted this “lesser” form of exercise only to discover that the trauma of the class rendered my body useless for even this. I struggled through five minutes of pained pedaling until I eventually admitted it was time to go home. Collecting my kids, I headed to the car, bathed in disappointment.
While there was a period in my life when I was young and it seemed as though I could do most anything and everything, days like today remind me, that that season has passed. My life is now subject to countless forces that are completely outside my control. As a busy, working, mother, I can’t have it all. That feels disappointing. As I reflect, I wonder if perhaps the task for me now is to learn to live graciously in this new reality with flexibility and gratitude. As challenging as life can be, it is also chock full of wonder and privilege, meaning and substance, connection and purpose. As I write, I admit that I’m not quite there yet, but I’m committed to working on it. AND it may be the only work-out I get!
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