Simple

This morning, I was talking to a friend about her fitness goals.

She feels lost -- like she doesn't know where to begin. I told her I know exactly how she feels.

Then I suggested she find a place that will meet her where she is, see what she is capable of, but also place her on the road of ever-increasing capacity, meeting important milestones on the way.

And then I was real with myself, and I knew I had to be honest.

Progress is never as simple as simple starting and not giving up, especially at first.

A lot of uncomfortable things, even painful things, happen at the beginning, both physically and mentally.

My knees hurt so badly at the beginning of strength conditioning that I could not kneel down. I couldn't do push-ups on my knees or do burpees because the tissue was so tender.

I had nearly constant hip pain. I had to stretch extensively on a daily basis to help relieve the stiffness.

I was full of anxiety every time I pulled into the parking lot, acutely aware of how bad I was at anything to do with working out. What if they asked me to do something I couldn't do? How stupid would I look trying to do it? What if it just makes the pain worse, instead of better?

I struggled to lunge across the parking lot, even without weight. Whenever the warmup included inchworms or pushups, I would feel a twinge of panic inside, because I could not properly do either one.

My waistband would dig into my tummy. I couldn't find a supportive sports bra. I struggled in baggy t-shirts and was always the slowest in the class. The last person to make it back from a stop sign run. The last person to finish the bear crawls. The slowest person on the rower. The weak link in the team.

I'd apologize to people who were on my team because I knew I would hold them back.

Imagine stripping away all the comfortable things you have to keep you company. Feelings of being capable, of being good at what you do, of leading others. Would you put yourself in a position to be laid bare in front of peers who maybe have never been where you are? People who have always been fit, who have always been good at sports, who've never really been overweight, who don't know what it is like to be winded just by walking up the stairs or carrying in the groceries? Would you set aside your instinct for self-preservation in the moment to uncover a deeper, truer form of self-realization that has the possibility to last a lifetime?

Because if you can endure it, if you allow each and every weakness to manifest itself for possible exposure or even ridicule, you'll gain something else.

You will wake up one day, and you will not be the slowest person anymore.

Your knees will stop hurting.

Your legs will get stronger, so you can run after your toddler when they dash away from you.

Your leggings will be too big one day, and you'll order new ones, and those new ones will still dig in, but you won't care as much.

You might even see yourself as an asset on the team, someone who can pull their weight and help others when they need it.

You'll complete a set of burpees and you won't feel like you're dying.

You won't quit when it is hard anymore because you already did the hardest thing: you started, and you didn't give up.

Maybe it is that simple after all.

Brave Face

One of the ways I deal with hardship or disappointment or bad days is to think about the trials that other people might be facing that are way more challenging than what I am currently going through.

In some ways, this comparison offers perspective and can be a good thing.

In other ways though, the comparison whispers that I'm not allowed to feel upset because what I'm going through is basically nothing in the grand scheme of things. "Stop crying," says the harsh side of my mind, "Or I'll give you something to cry about."

Is there a way to remain positive while still realistically experiencing the downs in your life without stuffing them down or ignoring them or pretending they aren't important?

I think there is.

People can just be honest.

I really don't like being at home all day. That's not even a complaint; it's a statement of fact.

I know I am blessed because we still have jobs and can pay our rent. That's not bragging, it's just real.

I'm having a hard time caring about my personal goals because I feel so isolated from everything. Where are the people who encourage me, who notice when I've succeeded? Where are the people I can cheer on, the people who I can support? Who is there to eat the carrot cake that I just made to pass the time?

I'm an introvert. I'm picky about people, I dislike phone calls, I struggle with parties and concerts and crowded stores. I never know what to say in the moment and always second guess myself later.

Every meme on introversion celebrates this time of social distancing. "I've been preparing for this my whole life!" or "Stay home and read? Perfect, I was going to do that anyway."

The trouble is, for an introvert (or for this introvert), home should be a respite, not a prison. Introverts still like people, they like making a difference, they enjoy creating something good. Home is the place that charges their souls like an electric car so that they can hit the road of their relationships and goals renewed and ready for the trip.

What happens when staying home is no longer a joy? Like a battery left on the charger too long, the charged introvert is left with energy that is no longer drained by people but is instead wasted on pursuits that were once cherished and precious, maybe because they were hard-to-come-by.

I've lost interest in watching TV. I can't think of a book I'd feel like reading. I'm making a quilt because it takes up time, but each block is becoming more of a chore. I've been putting off baking because nothing really sounds that interesting to bake (that's never happened to me before). I haven't played the piano for two days.

Usually, I have a lot of drive. I have the mental strength to push through things that are hard. I'm okay with failing and trying again until I succeed. But for some reason, today, I can't seem to put up that brave face.

I recognize that nearly everyone in the world is having the same experience, which means that my voice is just one in a billion others, and if a tree falls in a forest and there's nobody around.... well you know.

So what's the solution?

Maybe laughter. Go through your phone and text a dumb joke to five people just because. They're as alone as you are.

Maybe connection. Call somebody who might need to hear that they haven't been forgotten about.

Maybe encouragement. Share something great you've achieved, and when other people share their achievements, complement them like crazy. People need to be seen, noticed, remembered.

Maybe reality. You don't have to put up a brave face. Some people aren't killing it at homeschooling. Some people aren't burning through home workouts like a champion. Some people aren't creating masterpieces or setting goals or enjoying more time with family. Some people know that outdoors isn't canceled, that music isn't canceled, that love isn't canceled, but really, the things that mattered a lot to them were, and they can feel grief because of it. Some people are only eating cereal when they have both the time and ability to cook a gourmet meal.

Your quarantine doesn't have to be put on display as a daily log of successes. Instead... be honest. It's sixteen hours of mediocrity, with one or two shining moments that weren't quite enough to lift the fog.

It's okay if your goals aren't as appealing anymore. It's okay that workout seemed lame without a partner. It's okay if March is your new nemesis and April might soon be added to your dirty-word dictionary.

Give yourself that weakness, and save the brave face for when you actually need to be brave.