As a preface to today's installment, I must say one thing. Some of you might already know this, and to others, it might be a novel concept. Regardless of the group in which you perceive yourself belonging, I will say this with equal strength and conviction to each person reading this. Okay, here goes:
There is absolutely NOTHING attractive about thigh fat.
Yes, today I want to discuss the mystery that is thigh fat. This ugly, wrinkly, cottage cheese & jello looking mass that jiggles on the inside of each of my thighs has my panties in a literal knot. That knot tightens every time they rub together (one of my goals is to eliminate that particular phenomenon, just so you know). Forgive me if I'm being too graphic or engaging in the social faux pax of TMI, but after completing my second day of 5K training, throughout which my thighs did nothing but whine, kvetch, and demand that I turn around and take them home, I spent the entire day wondering how it is that, for 40 years, I have allowed these insults to the human figure dominate my life.
Because of my thighs, I have avoided the comfort and freedom of shorts.
Because of my thighs, you won't catch me - dead or alive - wearing a bathing suit in public (making participation in water fitness more of a challenge than it should be).
Because of my thighs, I've had to wear clothing large enough to fit them...wait, that's my hips - but I know they're in cahoots together.
Because of my thighs, I've gone through a literal fortune's worth of pantyhose, as they can only stand up to one day of the highly frictioned, rash inducing thigh rub.
Because of my thighs (and this might be the biggest point of dismay of all), I never knew I had muscles down there!
Before you think I'm a total idiot (which some of you might, anyway - not my problem), let me follow that with this: even though I've had bouts of fitness now and again throughout my four decades, I've never found the workout that would reach through my jiggly thigh fat to the muscles that are so obviously down there. But this morning, as I pounded down our road, desperately watching my turn-around point get closer, I felt them. My thigh muscles. The ones that have been bound and gagged by the fat that covers them for most of my life. I felt them; no, I heard them. They were crying like lost children: "Here we are! Here we are! Don't leave us here to die..."
Okay, a little macabre. The point is, I discovered that there is life - and muscle - after the fat. (Yes, pun intended.) And in discovering that, I found a new way to motivate me to stay faithful to the course laid before me, even in the light of my evil husband who has just decided to make homemade cake! (Traitor.) I don't want to just hear my thigh muscles calling out to me, I want to welcome them in person, and lay my eyes on their sleek contours and bold sinews. (That was wierd.)
Visions of beautiful thighs (and the bathing suit I'll get to wear!), I think, will be an important aspect of my journey to the 5K and, over the longer run, bettering my health and fitness. On those days when my husband and his dastardly cake are tempting me and causing me to drool in a most unladylike fashion, on those mornings when it's cold and dark and the last thing I want is to get up before the rooster down the hill (I beat him up this morning, yes, I did), when, once again, a co-worker brings a unit meeting snack spread that the local buffet restaurant would charge $10.95 for, the future beauty and wonder of my thighs will keep me strong.
In the New Testament book of Hebrews, the author reflects on the faith of various Jewish "heroes"; in some Bibles, Hebrews 11, where this is recorded, is titled "The Roll Call of Faith." Of one of these heroes, Abraham, the author says, "By faith Abraham obeyed." Abraham believed and obeyed God when it looked like such belief and obedience would bring him anything but reward: God asked him to leave his home and set out for an unknown future; God promised him a son long after his wife was able to produce children; after that son was born and somewhat grown, God asked him to sacrifice him; who in their right mind would go with this? Yet Abraham did.
On this side of history, we see the multiple happy endings associated with each of Abraham's trials of faith. But from his vantage point, he saw nothing. Every time he obeyed, every time he stuck to the course laid before him, he didn't know what would happen. He didn't know he'd make it to the Promised Land, he didn't know that he would indeed have a son by his elderly wife, he didn't know that sacrificing that son would lead to God providing a substitute. All he knew was that God has laid a course before him, and he doggedly put one step in front of another.
What Abraham did have, however, was a vision: "For he looked forward to the city that has foundations, whose architect and builder is God (Hebrews 11:10)." What kept Abraham faithful to his calling, his own race, was the unshakeable knowledge that God had something greater - greater than anything he (or we) could see, touch, taste, smell, or otherwise physically experience. Abraham knew that, no matter how difficult, disappointing, unstable, dangerous, or just plain nasty life was, true reality was in the spiritual Kingdom of God, and that place (however God defines it) was unshakeable and more solid than Yosemite's El Capitan. No matter what happened to him here, he knew his true future awaited him there, as it does all those who truly seek after God's heart.
My short term motivation might be gorgeous, rock hard thighs that can't even spell jiggle. But my long term motivation, that will keep me faithful in trial & temptation, as well as comfort and victory, is knowing that I, too, am racing toward that city, that kingdom, "whose architect and builder is God."
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