Last weekend at our 12WBT party, they played a video.
It was a 2 minute montage type thing with Michelle Bridges doing a voiceover, kind of spruiking the 12WBT program and who Mish is and all that.
There were a couple of quotes from it that I really loved, namely:
"In order to be successful, you need to dig deep", and
"Whenever I've had drama in my life, my exercise has been my rock".
I had a couple of days rest on Sunday and Monday - I was exhausted and needed to regroup. I'd bought these, and they quite appropriately, finally arrived...
I had no idea that I was going to need them.
Then on Tuesday, I was on my way to the gym after work when I called my mum.
She put me on to pop and I found out that he's quite unwell.
My pop and I are VERY close and the idea of the possibility or losing him is too much for me.
I will spare you the long and drawn out details, but I crumpled, made a beeline for the train station and went home to cry.
Suddenly, I'd found myself unwittingly in the middle of a boxing match, my emotions and I going round for round.
Wednesday to Friday I decided I was going to JFDI and made it to the gym every day.
I struggled with it, my head and heart weren't in it and even though I was pushing past my 500 calories, I wasn't getting that euphoric I usually do.
By Saturday morning, I was a few rounds into that boxing match, and a bit worse for wear, with two black eyes and almost ready to throw in the towel.
I called my pop to see how he was feeling.
He told me he'd just got home from being in emergency since 3am because he couldn't breathe and was sure that was it for him.
And that right there was the king punch you see in the movies, the one that hits so hard that the hero goes flying in the air in slow motion, all teeth and spittle and blood and bruising.
That was the hit that either makes or breaks the hero.
So what did I do?
I called my mum for her verdict. She told me not to worry, I still did.
I told Josh I was fine, and to just go to work (he didn't beleive me).
I took a deep breath and packed my bag. I needed a distration.
I went to the gym and I burned 1200 calories.
(and then I baked for 6 hours to distract my mind. Everyone I know is getting well fed this week)
Sunday - ding ding ding - next round.
I woke up at 8:30 and laid in bed for an hour and a half just thinking.
I was a little battered and bruised by the time Josh dragged me from bed, but I half heartedly packed my gym bag thinking I might go to the gym after I got up for breakfast (brunch by that time).
I walked into the gym, and I ugly cried the entire way.
I'm not talking those delicate little lady sobs. No, I'm talking big, heaving, can barely breathe through the pain type wailing.
I spent a good deal of the walk telling myself to stop it and trying to hide my face from passing traffic.
By the time I reached the gym, I'd had a text from mum that pop's breathing was much better and he hadn't been in pain, he'd slept well and been up to visit her for a coffee and he was WELL - that news set off a whole new chain of tears.
The combination of all of the emotion I'd been feeling, letting go of and holding on to, meant I was ready to work out.
And I did.
Yesterday I went up a level in all of my cardio work, another 10kg on my leg presses, another 5 on my shoulders and lats, smashed my abs and dropped 5kg from my assisted chin ups and 10kg from my assisted pull ups.
This morning, still feeling the sting of the past week's events, still feeling the fear of what the outcome of all this could be, was the first morning in over a week that I woke up and just knew I'd be going to the gym tonight.
I'd be doing my workout I'd be feeling pretty good by the end of it.
I'd like to think that was the KO punch, but I know how emotions work and I know that no matter what, they'll just keep getting up.
They'll never be down for the count.
I guess what I didn't count on was that I won't either.
I'll admit that on Tuesday night I did just want to eat crap and drink hard liquor and cry and sleep for days - I'm still human and I'm still Skye, that doesn't change.
But mostly, I've just thought I need to get through this, the pain, the fear, the hardship.
And I realised that that's what Mish meant.
That's where the parallels of training and life lie - you need dig deep and get through the pain and become stronger and better for it.
That's where you find your success.