Why the gym is working for me now but didn't before

Mens jeg var barn prøvede jeg lidt af hvert; jeg har gået til tennis i flere sæsoner, jeg prøvede håndbold af, teakwondo, funky dans, svømning, gymnastik. Noget af det var jeg glad for, men jeg kan helt klart også skrive under på, at jeg var nervøs og usikker ved meget af det. For eksempel er jeg ikke særlig glad for dybt vand og halvstore bolde, som kommer flyvende mod mig. Jeg er heller ikke ligefrem selvforsvarstypen, selvom jeg husker, at jeg synes det var spændende dét der med at respektere en anden kultur og bukke for det koreanske flag. Og så lærte vi vist også at tælle til tre på koreansk, ikke at jeg kan huske en dyt af det nu. 

Jeg mindes, at jeg alle dage har været lidt ked af at skulle i skole, når der var idræt på skemaet. Ikke fordi jeg som sådan hadede at være aktiv, jeg var bare ikke fan af måden det blev gjort på. Læreren, der tvinger en til at løbe hurtigere og hurtigere eller gøre ting, som man bare ikke synes er rart (som at svømme på dybt vand, klatre op i et træ, hoppe på en forvokset luftmadras - ja, jeg er lidt en kylling), men især følelsen af ikke at slå til i forhold til de andre elever. Hun kastede bedre, han løb hurtigere, hun havde en bedre balance, han griber bedre, han sparker ikke skævt, de har det sjovt. 

Jeg havde det sjældent rigtig sjovt. Jeg har tit undret mig over, hvad folk dog snakkede om, når de fortalte, at de blev høje af at dyrke sport. At det gjorde dem glade. Jeg forstod det bare ikke, for jeg brugte det meste af den tid på at føle mig håbløs og forkert. Jeg var ikke god til at løbe, jeg kunne ikke lave kolbøtter, jeg var bange for bolde der kom i høj fart. Og så står man der og bliver nedgjort af sportsnørden, der for alt i verden skal vinde og synes at det er vildt irriterende at være på hold med hende den tykke, der da heller ikke kan finde ud af en pind... I hvert fald ikke lige i idrætstimen. 

Da jeg var færdig med gymnasiet meldte jeg mig ind i et fitnesscenter og jeg ville bare nyde det. Jeg skulle bare nyde det. Jeg havde det da heller ikke ligeså slemt, som da jeg gik i skole. Men jeg havde det altså heller ikke superfedt og jeg var frustreret over, hvorfor alle andre følte en enorm glæde ved at træne, når jeg bare ikke gjorde.... Jeg var flov over, at jeg blev rød i hovedet og svedte. At jeg ikke kunne løbe hurtigere. At jeg ikke kunne løfte mere. At alle andre umiddelbart præsterede bedre og det hele helt sikkert bare skyldtes, at jeg var tyk og forkert. 

Da jeg så meldte mig ind i mit fitnesscenter her i Århus opdagede jeg lige pludselig, at noget var forandret. Jeg skulle godt nok lige i gang først, men pludselig smilede jeg, når jeg gik derfra. Og jeg kom nogle gange hjem fra universitetet og sagde: "Jeg har sådan lyst til at tage hen for at træne!" Vent, hvad? Sagde jeg virkelig lige dét? Jeg kunne mærke, at jeg blev høj af det. Jeg havde lyst til det, det var ikke længere bare en sur pligt.

Og hvad havde så ændret sig? Højst sandsynligt "bare" mig. For det første havde jeg ikke et decideret mål med min træning i form af at gøre mig selv bedre eller tyndere eller... Jeg ville bare gerne have det godt! Som sagt havde jeg en knæskade og det var grunden til, at jeg meldte mig ind. Jeg ville gerne slippe for den smerte. Det vil altså sige, at jeg for det første ikke havde tårnhøje forventninger til mig selv og min træning - mit succeskriterie var at styrke mine knæ og det skete ret hurtigt. Så langt så godt! 

Det gik op for mig, at jeg tidligere havde brugt alt min energi på at tænke over, hvor dårlig jeg var til alting. Og det åd min glæde for træningen op. Hvis man bruger alt sit overskud på at tænke over, hvor pinligt det er, at man er tyk og rød i hovedet og ikke løber ligeså hurtigt, som hende ved siden af, hvor skal glæden så komme fra? Jeg gik rundt og troede, at alt det der skete med mig, når jeg trænede var fordi jeg var tyk. Det værste jeg vidste var at jeg svedte og blev tomatrød i ansigtet og - og en dag snakkede jeg så med en tynd pige fra mit studie og hun fortalte, at sådan så hun altså også ud fem minutter efter hun gik igang. 

Og så forstod jeg, at vi reagerer forskelligt allesammen, uanset om vi er tykke eller tynde. Jovist, måske synes jeg ting er hårdere, måske bliver jeg mere forpustet og træt, fordi jeg vejer mere end nogle af de andre, men det er jo bare mit udgangspunkt. Og hende der løber hurtigere end mig har måske trænet i et år eller mere for at blive så hurtig - hvem kan vide det? 

Det gik også op for mig, at jeg tidligere havde brugt alt min energi på at tænke over, hvad alle andre mon tænkte om mig. De måtte jo tænke alt muligt grimt om hvor svag og langsom og tung og rød og svedig jeg var. Og hvor grim jeg så ud. Og de kiggede garanteret allesammen på mig i omklædningsrummet og var enige om, at jeg var helt forfærdelig. Og helt ærligt, når man bruger al sin energi på så negative tanker er der så noget at sige til, at man ikke bliver glad når man træner? 

Men det har jo heldigvis ændret sig nu. Tro mig, jeg har stadig dårlige dage, hvor hende med den perfekte krop helt sikkert kigger og tænker grimme ting om mig. Men jeg har også dage, hvor jeg tænker, at folk nok bare tænker det samme, som jeg tænker om dem. Og at de forøvrigt ikke rigtigt kigger ret meget alligevel, fordi folk har travlt nok med at gøre dét, de er der for. Træne.

Når jeg ser en kvinde, der tydeligvis kæmper med at opnå resultater, så tænker jeg, at det er fedt, at hun er der. Når jeg ser én der er ligeså rød i hovedet, som jeg bliver, så tænker jeg, at det er sejt, hun er der og giver den gas og nyder det. Når jeg ser en kvinde, som jeg lige kigger ekstra på, så er det måske nok fordi hun har pæne træningssko eller -bukser på. Eller fordi hendes hår er pænt eller fordi hun har en pæn tatovering eller hvad ved jeg... Det korte af det lange er, at jeg ikke kigger på folk og tænker dårlige tanker om dem. Så hvorfor skulle folk gøre det om mig?

Og hvis de så alligevel gør, så er det jo ikke rigtigt mit problem - jeg betaler for at være medlem ligeså meget som de gør. Og så er det jo godt, at jeg selv kan minde mig om, at det i det hele taget er lidt sejt, at jeg er der og nyder det (de fleste dage, i hvert fald. For man må godt have dage, hvor man bare ikke gider. Det må man altså godt). 

English:

When I was a child a tried out a lot of different sports; I did tennis for a few seasons, I tried out handball, teakwondo, funky dance, swimming and gymnastics. Some of it I quite liked, but I also remember quite clearly feeling nervous and insecure a lot. To give a few examples I'm really not a fan of deep waters and balls flying directly to me. I'm not a self defence kind of girl either, even though I remember thinking it was cool to respect another culture like that and greeting the Chorean flag. And we also learned to count to three in Chorean, even though I have no idea how to do that now. 

I remember being a bit worried and sad when I knew sports and physical education was on the schedule in school. Not because I hated being active, just because I didn't like the way it was done. The teacher forcing you to run faster and faster or do stuff you really do not like (like swimming in deep water, climbing trees, jumping on a huge air matress - yes, I'm a chicken too, it doesn't make it easier). But especially I hated the feeling of not being as good as the other kids. She is better at throwing, he is running faster, she has a better balance, he is better at catching, he can kick the ball in a straight line, they are having fun.

I rarely had fun in those classes. I often wondered what people were talking about when they said that doing sports made them feel high. That it made them feel happy. I just didn't get it, 'cause I just felt hopeless and wrong. I wasn't a good runner, I couldn't do somersaults and I was afraid of balls coming towards me with high speed. And then you're standing there feeling patronized by the sportsfan, that has to win whatever it takes and thinks it's so annyoing being teamed up with that fat girl that doesn't know how to do anything... At least when it comes to sports. 

When I graduated from high school I joined the gym and I really wanted to enjoy it. I just had to enjoy it. And it wasn't as bad compared to how I felt in school. But it wasn't great either and I was so frustrated because of it. Why does everyone else feel such joy in exercise, when I just.... do not? I was so embarassed about turning red and sweaty. Embarassed about not running faster or longer. Not lifting enough weight. Embarrased that everyone else was doing so much better than me and I was sure it was all because I was chubby and wrong. 

When I joined the gym here in Aarhus I realized that something had changed. All right, I had to get going in the beginning, but suddenly I was smiling when I left the gym. Sometimes I even came home after a lecture at the university and heard my self saying: "I just really want to go to the gym!" Wait, what? Did I really just say that?! I could feel what they were talking about; I got high and happy. I felt like doing it instead of being something I ought to do. 

What changed? Probably "just" me. First of all I didn't have a huge goal with my work outs. I didn't join the gym to loose a lot of wait, I just wanted to be more comfortable. I already told you yesterday that I had a knee injury and that was why I signed up. I wanted to make it better and less painful. And it got better quite quickly. So far so good!

I realized that earlier I had spent all my energy thinking about how bad I was at everything. And it ate away whatever happiness I could have gained form working out. If you use all your energy thinking about how embarrassing it is that you're fat and that your face is going red and that you're not running as fast as the girl next to you, then where's the joy supposed to come from? I was thinking that it all was because I was fat. I hated when my face was red and when I was sweating, and I was sure that it only happened because of my weight. Until a (skinny) girl sitting next to me at a lecture at the university told me that happened to her to five minutes after she started working out.

And that day I realized that we all react differently, nomatter if we're fat or thin. Okay, I might find things harder, I might get shorter of breath, I might get more tired because I'm bigger, but then that's my starting point. And the girl running faster next to me may have been working that speed up for months or years - who knows?

And it really made me think about that I used to spend all of my energy thinking about that others were thinking off me. Surely, I thought, they had to think all kinds of nasty things about how weak and heavy and red and sweaty I was. And how horrible I looked. And I was sure everyone was looking at me in the changing room agreeing that I was horrible. And seriously, when you spend your energy on such negative thoughts is it really a wonder that you don't get happy from working out?

But it has changed now, luckily. Believe me, I still have bad days where I'm sure that woman with the perfect body over there is looking at me and thinking bad things about me. But I also have days where I'm thinking that people probably just think the same about me as I think of them. And they're probably not looking that much anyway, after all they are there to do their thing. Working out.

When I see a woman at the gym who's clearly fighting to get results I'm thinking she's cool for being here! When I see someone with a face as red as mine I think she's cool for being there and enjoying it! When I see a woman and look one extra time it's probably just because I like her shoes or clothes or her hair or tattoo - or something like that! Long story short I don't look at people and think bad thoughts, so why should people do that to me?

Anyway, if they do it's not really my problem - I pay for my membership at the gym just like them! And then at least I can always remind myself that it's cool that I'm there and enjoying it (most days, anyway.. 'Cause you'll have days where you just don't feel like going - and that's okay too).