My dad calls or texts me all the time asking if I’ve worked out today. I have to say it’s motivating, because the thought of saying no would be heartbreaking! My father is a workout fanatic. He always has been. As a football coach most of my life, he has always been in shape. My friends would sometimes tell me that they saw him working out three times during one day. This doesn’t surprise me at all. If there is one thing I can be sure about my father, it’s that he puts 250% into everything he does. If he’s working out, he works hard and frequently throughout the day. If he’s golfing, he golfs hard and multiple times a week. If he’s eating . . . well, let’s just say he likes his sweets. His passion and drive for all things “life” are incredible!
The past few days of my workouts have been really emotional for me. I feel like the sweat that is dripping down my head to my arms, chest, and then finally to the floor is like tears being released, realizing that I’m here on this earth, at the Y with Heather, able to exercise. It’s freaking hard work. But I’m doing it. Last year, I was in a bed fighting for my life, and here I am today.
These small moments are slowly starting to hit me. It’s like I’m seeing a light ahead from the darkness of the hell that just happened over the past few years. I’m really looking forward to having more of these to come. My days have been so consumed with chemo brain, anger, anxiety, sadness, and confusion that a break is refreshing. It’s like I can breath better.
Perhaps this is why my Dad works out (sometimes three times a day :)).