Selected to Begin Training

The email arrived in my inbox this afternoon, about five hours after I sent a message explaining Connor’s recent absence from the dojo.

I received the email in duplicate: once for Connor, and once for myself. It read, “We are excited to announce that you are invited to participate in Black Belt Testing this fall!” Attached was a document (which, had we been present at class this week, we would also have received in hard copy) detailing the upcoming mandatory meetings and test dates.

I don’t know how I feel about this.

Lately, I haven’t been in the best headspace, generally speaking. I’ve had that behind-the-eight-ball feeling for quite some time now, like I can’t summon enough cares to give about much of anything. The mind-body connection is real, and I’m getting a definite chicken-and-egg downward-spiral vibe.

I’m currently carrying some thirty pounds of fat that I DO NOT WANT, and my new nutritionist is telling me to reject “diet culture” and instead learn to listen to my body. —I don’t know if I can trust my body to know what it really needs, nutritionally speaking, especially since my brain has a dopamine problem (i.e. ADHD).

I’m not confident in my ability to meet the fitness requirements of the upcoming black belt testing — so much so that I hesitate to even write down the Black Best Testing dates on the calendar. Granted, I have a personalized strength training program at the Fitness Center at my work centered specifically on my black belt fitness requirements, so it’s not like I’m not working toward my goal… but I’m still dubious. It’s not a for-sure thing in my mind that I’ll be able to complete 40 push-ups, a two-minute forearm plank, or 1,000 jumping jacks, along with the other calisthenic requirements — not even considering the actual curriculum, which I think I do have a pretty good grasp on.

I’ll keep showing up, putting in the work, and pushing forward like I always do. Maybe I’ll surprise myself.

What Wagon?

My weight has gone up and up

Back in June, I started a blog post that I never finished:

It’s not the number on the scale that’s getting me down; it’s the reappearance of my double chin and my spare tire. It’s the added jiggle in places I’d once made unjiggly. It’s the tightness of the waistbands in my work slacks. It’s the fatigue.

At that point, I weighed ten pounds less than I do now.

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