[CHANGES] Anything Is Possible

[Sandra K. Ahten]

Anything is possible.

I'm remembering now - how much I liked using my body when I was a kid. I
took gymnastics and tap dance. I tried ballet. I loved to swim. I went on
bike rides. When I was twelve I requested a basketball for my birthday.
Every summer evening we had some kind of neighborhood games. I enjoyed all
of this even though I never really excelled in any sport.

Then along came the disastrous seventh-grade track experience. On the first
day of practice, the coach dropped us off five miles out in the country and
told us to run back to school. I made it about half a mile before I was at
the back at the pack. At one mile I had such a bad stitch in my side that I
just laid down in the ditch and cried. I went to the nearest farmhouse and
called my mom to come and get me. It was a long season.

I survived the track boot-camp experience, but it seems that it marked the
beginning of slow change in the way I related to my body. The long, idle
days of summer and youth were coming to a close. My time had to be spent in
productive ways. In my young adulthood this productivity was focused on
keeping my head above water. I was working, taking care of a child, buying
and maintaining a home, starting and ending relationships, and somehow
managing to party my way into a pretty serious alcohol and drug addiction. I
never made time for sports. I became really disconnected from my body. I
never associated it with fun anymore. I don't remember enjoying anything
physical that was healthy too. The physical things I did enjoy came with a
big price tag.

At age 30 I got clean and sober. It was a wonderful time in my life as I
began to truly explore the possibilities of who I could be. I quit smoking.
I quit smoking again. I did enjoy some physical activities, like dancing to
loud music. But my awareness of myself physically lagged behind my newfound
mental and spiritual dimensions. My body was primarily a shell for my mind
and my spirit. I walked - but only to get where I needed to be. My body was
still all about productivity, not enjoyment or experimenting. No longer
having alcohol, cigarettes or drugs as diversions, I began to use food to
entertain myself. To comfort myself. I started packing on the weight.

At age 37 I lost 38 pounds. Today I am 41 years old. I live in Urbana,
Illinois, which is 120 miles south of Chicago. After I got off of work last
Friday, at 1:30 in the afternoon, my husband and I climbed on our new bikes
and headed north. By 6:30 we were 48 miles closer to Chicago. By 7 pm I was
floating in the hotel pool - sure that it had more restorative powers than
the Sea of Galilee. The next morning we set out again, and by 1:00 we were
in Tinley Park, a southern suburb of Chicago. My odometer had turned more
than 100 miles within 24 hours of leaving Urbana. We rode the lake shore. We
rode to dinner. We rode to a Cubs game. (They won!)

Tuesday afternoon, 200 miles after leaving Urbana, we put our bikes on the
train and headed home. I'm leaving out the part about the horrendous
Saturday afternoon suburb traffic and not being able to find a hotel on the
second evening. I'm leaving out the part about being so tired that I cried
uncontrollably after a fight with Kevin when we stubbornly took separate
routes through Grant Park. But other than those few instances, I had an
amazingly good time. I would do it again.

You're probably wondering, How? How did she ever do it? (Or, Why? Why did
she ever do it?) I didn't start with this huge goal in mind. I just offered
myself the possibility, a little at a time, of doing things differently.
When I started the weight loss plan, I did what my leader told us to do. I
took the elevator instead of the stairs and parked farther away. Later I got
a pedometer and started a little more serious walking. Two years ago, ten
miles of walking per week was a big accomplishment for me. I made friends
with a woman who liked to exercise and so I combined exercisin' with talkin
 -- that was A Good Thing. I started yoga. I stopped yoga class, but kept up
a little practice at home. I swam a little. I did some aerobics. I got a
bike, run-down but comfortable.

Early last summer I went on a couple of ten-mile rides. At the end of the
summer I did a 35-mile ride. I told Kevin, "Next year maybe we can go on a
two- or three-day ride." I really don't know where the thought came from. It
amazes me just as much that I entertained the thought and spoke it out loud
as it does that I have now accomplished the task. But I held the thought in
mind, and less than a year later we set the date. Unsure of my ability --
and of what it would really be like that second day of the ride -- I made
back-up plans. We allowed for switching destinations if the wind was against
us, and we left my son our car with the bike rack attached so he could be
called upon for a rescue. But in the end -- I did it.

Exercise does not consume all of my time. But I haven't watched more than an
hour or two of TV a week in months. Sometimes fancy cooking takes a back
seat at dinner to cereal, smoothies, or bagged salad with tuna. But this
getting-in-shape thing has not been a big deal. It is a little deal: a
little deal on a regular basis. That's the way we get from point A to point
B. We set off on the journey. We start, we stop, we take breaks. We may have
days, weeks, or months of idleness. But then we remember: This is it. This
is my body. This is my life. I get to make the choices. Tomorrow when you
get home from work, put on your tennis shoes instead of your pajamas.
Anything is possible.

I look forward to getting to know you on your journey.
Sandra

© 2002 by Sandra Ahten