I’m clearly crazy.
Maybe it’s the sleep deprivation. Maybe it’s the postpartum hormones. Maybe it’s the start of a midlife crisis. But for whatever reason, I just signed up for my first USA Weightlifting-sanctioned competition. In June. Where I will have to wear… wait for it… a singlet.
That’s three months to drop the remaining baby weight (and maybe a couple of extra pounds), get my form up to snuff, and work up to lifting a respectable amount of weight where people won’t roll their eyes.
I’m scared. Even as I’m typing this my palms are starting to sweat. But I’m going to do it.
Do you know why?
Because I want my girls to see their mom doing things that scare her. I want them to see me taking risks, pushing myself and putting myself — perhaps too much of myself? — out there. Because I want them to take risks and chase what’s important to them. And if I want them to chase their goals, I have to model that behavior and chase mine.
No, it’s not my dream to compete in front of dozens of people in a piece of lycra that leaves nothing to the imagination. But it is my goal to get in shape and be strong. This competition sets a benchmark for me. It holds me accountable. And it pushes me to set harder goals that will challenge me even further.