Can you believe it? I’ve stuck with it! I’m kicking butt basically–I’ll go ahead and say it. I feel super proud that I’ve made it through 3 weeks of P90X, and, I haven’t died. I did however, push myself too hard on one of the leg/back exercises the other day, so I’m now a bit gimpy. I thought “wow, my knees haven’t struggled through this at all” and then did the one where you hold one leg in the air and bend down to touch the ground…yeah that was a mistake, because I have that horrible runner’s knee pain every time I bend down. My confidence got to my head clearly.

I used to think I was weak. I thought, mentally and physically, I simply couldn’t do certain things. I set limitations mentally on what I could do and would only allow myself to go that far. Any further? I’d fail. Silly right? Because how can we know what our limitations are if we never even try?

I made it through the first week, and I was so sore, I still felt weak.

I made it through the second week, and kept telling myself that it was only the second week…and I would remain weak until week 6 at least.

I am finishing up week three, and guess what, I am not weak. Not in the least. What I could not do in week one, I can do now in week three. Where I used to pause and have to take an additional minute or two (or three), I don’t have to do that anymore. Where Yoga X used to make me shake and panic, I’m feeling like my body is getting stronger, and soon, I’ll be able to handle it.

Truthfully, I’ve never stuck with something this long. Running, sure, I stuck with that. But that was easy. I could push myself as hard as I wanted to, and no one was watching me, so if I quit at mile 2 instead of mile 3, who would know? When I do these videos everyday, I am alone, and I can easily quit, but for some reason, I feel like I am holding myself more accountable this time. I don’t want to quit just because something is too hard. And, I certainly don’t want to quit because I’ve convinced myself that I am weak.

Pregnancy made me a warrior, I decided. It was the most difficult, most painful, most excruciating experience, and even still, I can’t imagine putting myself through it again. I had to convince myself that I wasn’t weak when I didn’t really believe it. I didn’t believe that I could do it, and when I did do it, I didn’t get that high of “look what I just accomplished.” No. Instead, I saw that my baby was healthy, but felt like I failed at the entire thing. There was a moment, when I was laying on my side, holding my legs together, actually believing that there was no way that a baby was actually in there or coming out of me. It was like I had picked denial, over facing what was literally painfully happening to me in that very moment. And, I still remember that moment, and feel like such a failure. Silly right? Because birth is birth, and no matter how your baby enters the world (in my case, screaming, demanding to be cut open, and hollering that the “real” doctor come in and the “fake” doctors kindly exit…bad, I know) it is supposed to be called a “success.” But, I felt like my body failed me. My knee surgeries made it so I couldn’t hold my legs, at all, not even a little bit…I was so physically fatigued, I had to ask to be rolled over, in order to consider possibly, maybe, pushing. It was the longest day of my entire life, and one that I still don’t feel very good about. My baby is beautiful, and I love her more with every single day, but if I am being honest, I still believe that labor was my weakest moment. However, as time goes on, and the weeks pass, I start to believe, even in the littlest sense, that I too am a birthing tribal mother. Yes, I passed out all over the place, and I literally gave up, but…I gave birth. I created life. And, physically, I know, I can do better next time. I know what to expect. I know that my body, though not graceful, will be able to handle it. And, maybe, if I continue to push myself week after week, I will go into the next pregnancy not just believing that I am strong, but KNOWING that I am strong.

It’s a mental game. And I think that P90X, in a really strange way, is becoming my own version of therapy.

I am on the road to combatting my weakness, and, it feels good.