After three weeks of working out with CrossFit (4 times per week) I begrudgingly admit that I might be seeing some changes in my body. I say begrudgingly because I’ve been riding along on the assumption/hope that I would look the same whether I exercise or not. That’s every couch potato’s dream, but I guess my 40s have caught up with me.
I noticed when I went to reach for something that I actually had a visible bicep muscle. I poked it and it didn’t mush into my arm like it usually does. Interesting. And today I had to give Camille a piggyback ride because her new flips were giving her blisters, but I easily stood up under her extra weight because it was much less than the squats I had been doing this morning. I actually felt stronger.
Another sign was when I got dressed for church on Friday morning I tried on a skirt that frustrated me the last time I wore it because my stomach was lipping over the waistband in a way that it didn’t use to, but this past weekend it looked as it did when I bought it. As many different times as I adjusted the waistband up and down, I couldn’t get it to pooch out in the same way as it did a few weeks ago. Coincidence? Maybe.
I thought I must be imagining things until we went to the pool and the hole in my thigh that started this all had turned into a dimple. I sat every which way on the lounge chair to make sure it wasn’t wishful thinking. It’s still there (actually 3 of them on the right and 2 on the left), but instead of reaching to China, they are just shallow dents. Carter didn’t seem that impressed when I tried to point out to him that my hole was gone. He brushed me off and went back to swimming.
I’m still dreading working out every day, but by doing it as soon as I wake up, it gives me less time to think about it and come up with excuses as to why I shouldn’t/can’t. I pretty much roll out of bed (after the 3rd alarm), throw on my clothes, make a coffee to drink in the car and am out the door in under 10 minutes. And today wasn’t as terrible as usual, so I actually had enough energy to make dinner. Or maybe that’s just what getting in shape feels like . . .