Bite me!

     Those who know me very well, know how much I used to love to work out. It was almost a daily routine. There was almost nothing more gratifying than coming home from the gym, drenched in sweat. It would feel so good to get a workout done that would send most people either to tears or into a state of throwing up. I was tough, and I was strong. I may not have looked like it, but there were few people who could out do me with most things. I was something I had taken pride in, and felt great doing. I was quite fortunate in the way I was able to go about paying for my gym membership. At the gym I went to, I got a trade off, I would work once a week in their daycare, and in return I would get a membership for both John and I. It was great, and I used that membership to it's full extent. And then I decided to do the Tough Mudder. It was an one of the most intense races I had ever seen. It was 12 miles with 24 insane obstacles designed by the British Military to make you bleed and some to even make you cry. It looked crazy, and it looked perfect for me. Just so you can see fully what it's like, here is a link to their website that you can see video of what a race is like: www.toughmudder.com. I knew in order to be able to complete this race I was going to have to really up my game. So I joined another gym on top of the one I was already using. I had always been curious about CrossFit, and all that it entailed. I had found a discount to join Octane Fitness, a CrossFit gym here in town, and thought it would be a perfect way to incorporate what I need to do to be ready. I was hooked on my first day there, if you live nearby and are looking for a place to go, go here! They are so amazing! It was crazy intense, it was crazy fun, and it kicked my trash! I LOVED every second of it! I went as often as I could, and loved working with everyone that was a part of that gym. I am so proud to say I AM a Tough Mudder!!! That day was fridgedly cold, with times of snow flurries and wind, and I was getting over being sick. But, I have never had so much fun as I did during that race! My sickness got worse, and I had to miss a couple of weeks at both gyms. Then I started working double shifts at work for a few weeks, so I wasn't able to go to my regular session. I could have gone after work, but I try to avoid working out while the kids are home. Just when I thought I might be able to make it back to working out, Brittany died. 

    In that moment everything I ever cared about, that wasn't a part of my family, no longer had any appeal to me. I no longer read, it took too much concentration. I no longer listened to music, it didn't have any meaning anymore, or else it would just make me cry remembering Brittany as she and I would sing at the top of our lungs in the car. It was too cold to run, and it took too much effort to get out of bed to work out. I ended up quiting both gyms. I couldn't work at the daycare anymore because the just the thought of it was exhausting. And there were people there, people became what I feared the most. I couldn't do CrossFit anymore, because I had no fight left in me to work. Getting out of bed, brushing my teeth and keeping my kids fed was taking more that I had as it was. 

    Slowly things got a little easier. I can get out of bed now on most days. I can go to work and come home not feeling like I was going to crumble to the ground. I can carry on conversations with people most of the time,though I think most of the time I just sound like a babbling fool. I could tell it was time for me to start working out again. The weight is piling up, and my strength is nothing like it used to be. I have gone running a few times and am upset at how out of shape I am. The weather is warming up, and we as a family are getting used to a "new" routine.... It's time....

     Early on after Brittany died, I was contacted by the owners of Octane. They had heard about what had happened, and wanted to help in the only way they knew how. They offered John and I a 6 month membership to their gym free of charge. I don't think they will ever know how much this has meant to me. At that time, I knew it would take several weeks before I would be strong enough to get back in the game. Having this gift open to us to used for whenever we were ready, was amazing to me. Working out had always been a great source of therapy, and stress relief for me. I just was unsure when I would be able to "get back" to where I used to be.

     Today was that day. I went back for the first time. I was excited, and apprehensive all at once. Could I do this? Do I really even WANT to do this? I felt like the "new" kid at school. At first it was great. I was upset at myself for letting myself slide so much physically. I was mad, just mad. Mad that I was getting fat again, mad that I had to use such a small amount of weights, mad that I had lost all my endurance, mad that it took me so long to come back, mad that I had turned into someone I never wanted to be.  But I was out, and I was doing it, so in my mind I had already accomplished my goal for the day. The first round went great, halfway into the second round I started really feeling my age, and my loss of aggression, and my anger increased. I took a minute to catch my breath, and my mind started to run without me. I dawned on me that it has been 4 months this coming weekend since I lost my daughter. 4 months! 4 months of holidays she missed. 4 months of school she didn't attend. 4 months of every night, not being able to be told good-night. In that 4 months I have learned a few things. I have learned that death is a thief! Not only a thief of the life of my Brittany, but a thief of my life as well. It has taken from me so very many things I have loved. It took running from me, one of my greatest passions. It took taste from me, I am a girls who loves to enjoy her food, and that was no longer there. It has taken away my smile and ability to laugh freely, it has taken my ability fully enjoy almost anything. I am now having to learn how to live again, because death has taken away the life I used to know. Granted, death is also a giver. It gave me darkness, sadness, weakness, and emptiness. It gave me insecurities, vulnerabilities, fear, and many longs sleepless nights of crying rage.  It gave me several pounds I'm fighting to get rid of, it gave me stress, and anxiety. It gave me lack of confidence, and it gave my kids a mom they don't know. All these thoughts were running through my mind as I was resting to catch my breath. I was fighting wanting to yell and scream to everyone there, I was fighting the urge to cry and never stop. But mostly I was fighting a war in my head. A war between letting this stupid thing called death win over me, or letting the little bit of fight left in me slowly grow and conquer. 

     I have one thing to say to death right now.... Bite Me!!! You may have taken so many things from me, but you won't take ME. Not yet anyway. I WILL learn to live again. I WILL learn to love the things I once loved. You may have taken my daughter, but I'll FIGHT you to the core before I let you take my will. For Brittany, I will FIGHT. For Brittany, I will LOVE. For BRITTANY, I will smile and someday be happy. So take that DEATH!!! I won't let you keep me down. I may still stumble, I may still fall, in fact I KNOW I will. But it WON'T be the end of the story that way. I will make headway somehow, someday. I will find me again in this muck that death has left me with. And I will clean her off, and help her shine.