F*** Me Pumps

Back in the day when I was a size 9 dress and feeling pretty fucking sassy, I wore combat boots. Hardcore Doc Martin or Sears' Brand boots. Steel toes.

Way back in the day, when I was much younger and much sexier, I wore heels -- the higher the better. Four inch heels were loafers in my book -- gimme some 5 or 6 inchers. I tell you I was Betty Page in a much less exciting body. Funny, isn't it that every guy worth his salt in my book thought those combat boots were much hotter than the heels. That's one of the reasons I married Carter; He thinks Combat Boots are much, much hotter than high heels. Score +100 for Carter.

So I got to thinking tonight about what makes me hold back from doing exercise every day of the week. This is coming from a chick who used to work out five days a week, Nautilus trainer circuit training with 45 minutes on a lifecycle and then an hour muscle building on the Nautilus machines. I couldn't tell you what the hell I was doing in there at Gold's Gym, but I surely was working hard enough to have a nice looking six pack and some serious muscles.

What I didn't have was what I have now. (Endurance, strength, stamina) And Anxiety. I am anxious about my workouts (the ones that give me the Endurance, strength and stamina). I am anxious that I have met the limitations of my body and will not be able to overcome my fears (though I love the endurance, strength and stamina). I am anxious that one or another of my physical problems will get in the way. On a daily basis, regardless of whether I work with Stein or not, I am afraid that my surgically reconstructed foot, the distressed tendons in my hands, or the strange right-sided stress in my lower back is going to come back to fuck with me. Often, these pains do, and more often than not, I do not complain. I work through as much of the pain as I can, and power through it. The sad thing is that most days, I am in pain -- pain I can do nothing to lessen. More often than not, I come out of my workouts proud, strong, capable ... and in a lot of pain.

I remember back when I wore those F*** Me Pumps, and damn it all, I could walk, run, jump, and stand all day long in those damn heels. At the end of the day, My feet hurt. My legs hurt. My lower back hurt. All in all, I wore those Goddamned heels just to look good and I hurt like a motherfucker for wearing them all day long. When I was an "exotic dancer" (read that: stripper), I wore heels that cost $400 a pair, were so beautiful they should have been worshipped, and I wore them in an amazing amount of discomfort -- not immediately, mind you, but in retrospect. My feet hurt. 30 years later I had surgery to correct the problem.

So I'm looking at my apprehension at the workouts I'm supposed to do now... the Crossfits in particular... and wondering what happened to the attitude that went along with the F*** Me Pumps. The 'Tude that made all the discomfort and pain and otherwise awkward dysfunction worth it. I'm wondering, too, how (in the name of footwear), I managed to rollerskate all over the City of Berkeley -- up and down hills -- and didn't feel a bit worse for the wear. I'm wondering how I got USED to doing things that made me feel like I'd been through the proverbial wringer and continued to do it...

In short, I wonder how to get to the place where going to the gym is the same as wearing the F*** Me Pumps. No questions asked. Maybe going to the gym is my New Year's resolution, but the resolution has to find me in order for me to accept it. I'll keep on it, with the support of my husband, Carter, and the encouragement of my trainer, Stein.