A Bomb is Dropped

This is not what I saw happening.

After my mile warm up run (which is significant all on it's own. Running a mile is now my warm up!) my trainer dropped the bomb that he's leaving the Y.  Everything stopped.  I know that the world does not revolve around me.  I know that I am not his only client.  I know that he has to make decisions that are best for him and his family.  But all that went through my head over and over and over is "What about me?  What am I gonna do?"

The move to Minnesota has been difficult.  It was much more difficult then I thought leaving my closest friends.  It was more difficult then I thought it would be to lose the support of my family, which at times felt overbearing and full of strife.  It has not been easy to create a strong support network out here.  I have struggled with feeling lonely and unwelcome.  I have found it difficult to form close and/or lasting friendships and internalized that it must be me.  Maybe I'm too difficult.  Maybe I'm too needy.  Maybe I'm not fun to be around.  Maybe I have too many issues.

And then we joined the Y.  I started working out.  We started making changes and it was the best decision we had made in a long time.  We were both healthier, or at least committed to becoming healthier.  And it was a great family activity to do.  One day this trainer commented that it looked like I was working hard and asked if I had had an assessment done. So I signed up.  I did not do well at that assessment and felt like all my hard work hadn't gotten me very far. But oddly enough he seemed to see something in me.  I decided that it didn't hurt to buy one package. I was probably making it up in my head anyway(because let's face it, I can do that).  He killed me.  He annihilated me.   Then he told me I did a good job and he'd see me next week.  What quickly became apparent is that he seemed to genuinely care.  I wasn't making that up in my head.  There were nights I felt like I was on an episode of The Biggest Loser....struggling to do one more push up, crying that I couldn't do it, and being told that I was in fact doing it.  That I needed to believe in myself.  There it is again....believing in myself.  Why is this always so damn hard for me?

So I continued training with him. He set me up with a nutrition plan.  I got involved in other training groups he ran.  I met other people that I connected with.  After 4 years in Minnesota, I found somewhere I belonged.  I started to find myself again.  I became friends with his wife who started to train with me, I made goals for myself and I actually stuck to them.  I even signed up for a 5K that I ran with his wife...and kids.  One of whom beat me, but I did it!  It was a starting point, albeit a low one.

So yeah, I feel like a bomb was dropped today.  I realize that to some I may just sound terribly dramatic.  Which, again I acknowledge is a quirky trait of mine.  And there are more that will just mean well when they say that I will be ok.  I know that I will be ok.  I have found a piece of myself that was missing for a long time.  My marriage is stronger.  My family is stronger.  I am stronger.  But it saddens me and frightens me to lose people who have been so instrumental in this process.  I'm afraid to lose the feeling that I belong somewhere and that someone cares about whether I make it or not.  I don't feel like I am done in my training.  Yes, I can run farther and faster.  But I still have a long way to go on meeting my next goal which is a swimsuit.  And I'm afraid of walking back in there where no one else is invested in me.  No one cares if I am in there and what level I am on.  I'll lose my work out partner.  And what if the friendships I have formed with them don't hold up?   I am the new person in Minnesota.  I did not grow up here.  My best friend doesn't even live within driving distance.  We have no other family friends that we spend time with.  And they will be busy.  That's just life. 

I'm afraid.  And I'm sad.  And I think it's ok to be.  I don't think I have to pretend that it doesn't matter.  That's the old me.  I stuffed a lot of things.  And then I ended up 255 pounds. 

But what I do now, I'm not sure.

Maybe it will all work out somehow.  Maybe not.  Maybe this is the next step in my journey.  Maybe something good comes out of this?