Is there anything worse than starting over… again?

So a little history…. During the summer of 2015 I went through a break-up that left me utterly heartbroken. I was in the midst of a terrible depression, and in an effort to find something else to focus on I joined a gym. This wasn’t my first foray into the world of fitness, but all the previous ones sent me running with my tail between my legs. Hey.. the gym can be a scary place! I also started to learn more about what to eat (or rather, what not to), and before I knew it, I started to lose weight. The more I learned about nutrition, and the more confident I became in the gym, the more invested I was becoming in a new lifestyle.

By the following spring, I was a gym regular, the guys at the local supplement store knew Progress picme by name, and I had developed a food-prepping routine like a champ. I ran my first 5K in May – the Color Run – so there was no pressure to be fast, just to have fun and complete the race. Around this time, I decided to go back to school to study exercise science. I wanted to help people like myself – those who are afraid to go into a gym, or do, but won’t go beyond the treadmill. It’s a lot easier to get help from someone who knows how intimidating it is to use weights for the first time, and who understands that it feels like all eyes are on you, just waiting to ridicule your mistakes, or worse, your body.

Everything was moving along just swimmingly. A year later and I was a size 12 – smaller than I had been since high school – from a size 18 the year before. I ran my first 10K in October. I wasn’t fast, but I was steady, finishing the infamous Bowling Green hill topper in the allotted time. I finished up my first semester with flying colors in December and was looking forward to bringing in the 2017 with a jump-start in the gym.  And then on New Year’s Day I was hurt at work. In the split second that it took to fall, I dislocated my ankle, with the force shattering my fibula. I was just given the okay to start physical therapy with limited weight-bearing after two and a half months of sitting on my butt. During that time I have had plenty of comfort foods brought to me by friends. I have wallowed, cried, and emotionally binged through many hours of tv and bags of Cadbury Mini-Eggs (these pastel gems really are one of the best things in the world, aren’t they!?). I didn’t gain back all the weight I lost (thank goodness!) but I did gain back enough that I can barely squeeze into my fat jeans.

So now, here I am. I get to start all over-again-and this time I have to do it while learning how to walk on a still-very-broken-leg.


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