Kumbaya, etc., etc.

Consider yourself warned: I am about to get all kinds of hippy-dippy-all-you-need-is-love-row-your-boat-ashore-kumbaya on your ass.  Just so you know.  Continue at risk of thurping (throwing up in one’s own mouth due to severe gross-out over hippy-dippy-love stuff).

I have had an epiphany.  A fo’-rizzle-honest-cross-my-heart kind of revelation.

I am thankful for CEBV.

Just remind me the next time I get all soppy and emotional over all the stuff I can’t do anymore.  No more distance running.  No more intense workout schedules.  No more week-long carb and sugar binges.  No more cutting corners on sleeping or nutrition.  No more saying “yes” to everyone and everything.

Aside from the distance running, I am pretty fine with all of that.  I may pause to smack myself on the forehead once in a while when I start to cross a line and wonder why I’m suddenly mid-flare.  But it’s all beginning to settle in.  Finally.

Which gives me a moment to pause and reflect.  Get all introspective.  Because I don’t do that enough already…

Here’s why I’m grateful for my chronic disease:

I am more empathetic to pretty much everyone now.  Whereas I used to be of the Sgt. Foley mindset… Now I get it.  I get that we all have different bodies, different stories, different reasons.  I have actual compassion now.

I went from this:

foley
What did you call me?

to this:

My heart grew three sizes.
My heart grew three sizes.

Does that mean I give up and crawl into bed?  To quote my son’s favorite song, “Aw naw!”  It means I have to pick my battles.  It means I must differentiate between just-don’t-feel-like-it and if-I-push-through-this-I’m-down-for-a-week.

Which brings me to reason number two (hehe…number two…): I have a far more intimate and respectful relationship with my body.  I am no longer the abusive boyfriend, berating my thighs for their cheerful dimples or my badonkadonk for being just that. Nor am I the OCD mathematician, worrying over the numbers.  You know the numbers I’m talking about: calories, pounds, inches, clothing sizes, fat percentages.  Those numbers used to make me crazy.  And really, they didn’t do much for my body.

Now I enjoy the days when my body is ready for walking, yoga, lifting, Pilates, dancing.  I really really enjoy those days.  Those days when I can carry the toddler from the parking lot to the front doors of the school without wanting to collapse.  That’s such great stuff.  And I appreciate it more because of those days when I simply can’t.  I don’t take energy for granted anymore.

I show my body respect by fueling it with food that will keep it moving.  When I say no to cakes and pies, biscuits and sundaes, I’m doing so because those things will make me ill.   It has nothing at all to do with weight, size, or any sort of fanaticism.  It is a choice I make because I want to operate at my optimum levels.  And when I indulge, that’s a choice too – a pretty major one.  It means a lot more than exceeding my calorie goal on myfitnesspal.com or any points system.  So you better believe that if I’m eating that coconut cream pie, I’m damn sure gonna make certain it’s the best freakin’ coconut cream pie I can get my hands on.  Mama don’t cheat for no gas station fruit pie.

Moving on…

I am thankful to CEBV for the extensive knowledge I’ve gained and continue to gain regarding nutrition, alternative treatments, and holistic approaches.  Three years ago, my focus was so narrowed, all I saw was cardio fitness.  From that pinpoint, entire worlds have opened.  Every day, I learn more.  Every day, I share more.  Every day, I grow more.  That’s pretty great stuff too.

Would I like to have a fully healthy fit body with no traces of disease?  Uh, duh.  If I could be cured tomorrow, I’d be signing up for marathons and trifectas and ultras today.  Just not at the expense of losing all I’ve gained.

Because while my body may be something of a guessing game, my spirit is a sure thing.

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