So uncomfortable.

Starting antyhing new is hard. It can be uncomfortable.

A few days ago, I ran into a situation in CrossFit where NONE of the modifications worked for me. I could not do any. The poor trainer overestimated my ability. He assumed I had at least some core strength.

I have none.

I tried each and every form of the excercise. While everyone else did something called ceiling stompers, yours truly rolled around on the floor struggling to lift both legs off the ground. Puffing like a steam locomotive straining up a steep incline, I put forth my best effort. The trainer suggested I hold onto the metal structures for more leverage.

More grunting, sweating, and failure.

He offered several more alternatives which left me laying there like a beluga whale beahced at low tide. Someone walked by and said, "I admire your determination."

Now, my brain immediatly went to sarcasm. He couldn't possibly mean that. Was he mocking me? I wanted to cry. It was so hard. And I just. Couldn't. Do. It.

From that moment, I was embroiled in a war within my mind. My brain said the following: "No matter what class you attend, you are the fat girl. Nobody is even close to your mamoth size." Or, "You have so many modifications and scaling, you're not really doing CrossFit." And, "These people are embarassed for you. Some may be embarassed to have you in the class grunting, sweating, struggling to do the things."

For most of my life, I gave in to my brain. Tuning it out, I pressed on. I pushed myself hard to the point of tears.

Then I was the last person in the box. We had to complete 7 rounds of hard things. Everyone else finished. So the coach came over and countred five seconds between the things and then counted my reps. Humiliation washed over me as I fought to reach all the reps in spite of my sheer exhaustion. Again, I assuemd the coach was internally rolling his eyes.

But when I was done, he smiled. He gave me a fist bump and told me he was proud of me.

Stumbling toward the womens' locker room, the man who said he admired my determination told me he was so glad to see me in the class. He told me that over time, I will gain the strengh, agitlity, and speed. Several others also congratulated me on just showing up. They said that's really the hard part. Showing up.

Here's the point to my story. My brain lied to me. That lazy, slug-like nature is unhappy with my committment to improving my health in a hard way. The truth is, growth can't happen if we are comfortable. We have to be uncomfortable. Very uncomfrotable. We need to embrace that discomfort and push through it to acheive something we never imagined possible.

I told one of my classmates that someday I will look back on this and laugh as I successfully execute ceiling stompers with proper form.

Now I need to apply these principles to my writing career. It's been a VERY LONG road. Twenty years.

What uncomfortable growth situations do you find yourself in? What lies are your brain telling you? How do you plan to overcome? Let's encourage one another. Drop me a comment or email.