Four summers ago some friends and I started meeting on Monday nights for an outdoor workout. It began as a 30-minute walk followed by some strength training. At the time it was a good workout for us and where we were physically…and I know I always left feeling like I’d had a good workout.
When the weather became colder, we moved our workouts to the school gym, where we’d run stairs and then do more strength and cardio fun. Yes, fun. 😉
And then a running club began in the spring, and by the next summer a lot of us were running three or more miles and then doing more exercising after that.
And slowly over the course of the next months and years, our workout night continued to morph and become even more difficult.
And those Monday nights have continued over the last years as we’ve tried to hold each other accountable in the journey of being healthy and becoming stronger.
Our latest adventure has been a series of Beachbody workouts, ranging from hardcore cardio to too many squats, from planking to killer ab moves that make me want to say bad words.
This journey of working out has been a good one, but it’s also been a hard one.
There’s been a lot of trying with everything I have…of pushing myself beyond what I probably should some days. And the trying can sometimes feel impossible…like the results are out of my control.
Because they usually are.
I remember a specific workout a few weeks ago. It was brutally difficult…and there was a point when we were doing burpees, and I seriously couldn’t do another one. I just couldn’t. I had to stop and breathe before I pushed myself, once more, down into that dreaded pushup-but-much-worse position.
Resting became necessary before I could even continue.
Today I’m over at God-sized Dreams, sharing about what God did in my heart when I gave myself permission to rest. Will you join me there?