Its 11:22!!! Cheryl are you there?

Have you ever met someone, and instantly said to yourself, "I want to hang around them, and be their friend"

My long time friend Cheryl tops this list.  We met early on in College.  She was a Basketball Player (#22)  I was a Soccer Player (#11).  The early 80's culture screamed that we should not be friends...All the more reason we should be.  One of the most magnetic traits of Cheryl is her "This is me, You get what you get, like it or leave it" attitude ...It was like a magnet for me.

Her number 22, mine 11...Every time either one of us sees the time 11:22, we think of each other.  A mini blessing...

We became fast friends...she tried to teach me basketball.  Oh well...I was better with my feet...Instead, I decided to become the basketball manager/timekeeper giving me the ability to hang around.  I enjoyed the players, admired their skill and dedication.  It mirrored my own with soccer.  I eventually got promoted to their  "aerobic instructor" a role I was destined to play for a long time....

I just wanted to be surrounded by Cheryl's  "aura".  Have you ever known anyone like that?

We have many memories, as roommates in College Housing with 2 others.

A little over a year ago, she phoned me with bad news.  One of our roommates was not doing well, and was in Hospice.  Sue, was Cheryl's best friend. They were like "2 peas in a pod"  Their kids grew up together. They shared many memories and time together well into adulthood.

When she passed, the loss was huge for Cheryl...All I could do was pray, hug, and be present... It never seems enough...As you read this Cheryl, know how much I care for you...How much I wish I could have done something...How much you mean to me.

Because of this experience, Cheryl has made a consistent effort to connect.  She is a constant in my world...a Facebook hello, a short text, glance at the clock at 11:22.

Our friendship will always be there... and Sue, Cheryl, Lesa and I will all be together again...laughing, making funny faces, trying to dance, acting silly, eating rice cakes and peanut butter...some day.  In the mean time, Cheryl and I stay connected in our hearts, and twice a day at 11:22...

Digging In

Are you kidding me?  She is going to weigh us in front of the whole team?  Shit...My heart races, my palms start to sweat, I feel lightheaded.  I think I am going to be sick...This can't be happening.  I should have worked out more over the summer, I shouldn't have eaten so much...why did I do that...shit

"Wow Anne, What did you do all summer? EAT??"  My coach announces...in front of everyone.  In an instant I am transported back in time...shame, dread and guilt come rushing through me like a charging freight train.  Every inch of me is in discomfort.  Everyone is looking at me, whispering how fat I am, I just know it.  Where can I run, how can I hide...please, just let me disappear....

I step off the scale, hold back the tears and exit the room.  How could I have done this to myself...How could I have let this happen...again...I wont eat, I will show her.  I can be thin, just watch me.  How fast can I lose 10 pounds?

Salads, Diet Cokes and Double Sessions in August.  A recipe for disaster.  I played hard, fought harder, felt miserable.  Soccer wasn't even fun anymore.  This had to stop

Stress, Anxiety, and obsession with food and exercise would continue to slam into me over and over again...30 years later, I have finally decided to plant my feet on the ground and say NO MORE!

My feet firmly planted, and I am beginning to finally grow roots...branches are beginning to reach out to others in need.  I see women of all ages...from tweens to seniors struggle with food, with exercise and with body image.  Why?  Who is it that we have to impress with what is in our grocery cart?  or how our butt looks in jeans? or  How far we can run?  How much we weigh?  I don't want to care anymore.

When we die, do we want our obituary to read?
     * She never ate anything bad for her
     * She was a perfect size 2
     * She was the fittest person I knew

And if that is the case, what is it that we want others to take away from our presence here?

Don't we all have more to offer than what is on the outside?  What about things like honesty, integrity, determination, dedication, drive, teamwork, love, compassion, laughter...

I am growing my tree in a different direction.  I don't care what it looks like, as long as it has lots of touch, durable branches, that spread out in different directions.  It is healthy and strong.  My tree appreciates the ground that supports it, the air that surrounds it, the rain and the sun that take turns nourishing it...It has learned the importance of a good foundation and has accepted that it may not look like any other tree in the forest.  Actually, I think my tree rather likes that fact.

3 Strikes

It was the ultimatum..."If you want to try out for the soccer team, you must hold at 110 pounds...end of story!" was what my dad had instructed.

That was what finally did it.  Somehow, with lots of adolescent growth, I finally found my place on the soccer field.  Playing through high school and most of college.

It was my junior year at Plymouth State. Our record was good, Big game day at Boston College, on the astro-turf.  I didn't have any turf shoes, so I decided on sneakers, they seemed to give me more traction than my cleats.  I played sweeper, the last line of defense. 

It was a close game, we were up 1-0, with about 20 minutes to go.  BC had a breakaway down the left sideline.  I was angeling back at full speed to support the Right Back....YES!  Our back beat her to the ball, and passed it quickly up field.  I stopped short, cut and turned up field.

POP, CRACK....THUD...down I went in a heap, pain shooting through my left leg.  Apparently every part of my body turned accept my left foot...stuck in place facing the wrong way on the turf.

Little did I know that would be the last competitive soccer game I would ever play.

April 1984, ACL Replacement Surgery.  My rehab took place in a Gym, right next door to the aerobic studio (think Jane Fonda era) in Danvers, Mass.  My future awaited me.

I stood on the side line my senior year and co-captained the team to an ECAC championship, unable to play.  Yet by winter I was able to start taking aerobics classes at the old gym at Plymouth.  I fell in love with the movement, music and sweat.  This was where I belonged.  I have been teaching aerobics ever since.  30 years now.  No wonder that left knee has had it.

I am scheduled for Knee Replacement Surgery on Monday, January 12.

It has been a struggle the last few years.  I continued to ignore the pain, until my right knee and hip began to object very loudly, because they were doing all the work.

A little over a year ago, I went for a second opinion...the first one was unacceptable to me.  "You can swim, and do the elliptical, you dont have to teach classes".  Ya...Right, maybe for you...not me.

The new doc gave me 4 options...
Heel wedge- Strike one; Orthovisc Shots- Strike two; High Tibialostomy- Strike three. Joint Replacement? You are UP!

I am happy and excited to get my new knee.  I am ready to respect my body and its limits, willing to make adjustments... I am not ready to give up the love I have for teaching group exercise classes.  Not for a long time yet.

There have been many years of my life that I have depended on exercise to get me through.  It has shut out pain, medicated my emotions, fueled my soul.  I am grateful for how it has helped me. 

Here is to my next chapter: Exercise for increased Joy, Health, and Growing Relationships...

Watch for upcoming posts...

-Conflict Comparison

-Divorce RX: Running to or away

-Exercise Friendships: the ones that really workout