Why 20:42 is my best time ever

Posted: June 26, 2011 in Uncategorized

Twenty minutes and forty-two seconds. It’s not my best time by the numbers, but it is my best time ever in a very important sense:

I could have quit.

I didn’t.

My coach husband would have supported me quitting. I seriously considered it in my fourth round.

But I didn’t.

Why was I legit to quit? I’m having wildly varying blood pressure because the new bp drugs don’t seem to be working. I’ve been coughing all day and have the chills, although I’m not yet running a temp. I’ve not been sleeping well because my CPAP mask isn’t sealing well and I can’t order a new one because the sleep doctor refuses to give me a new Rx until I see him, and the first open appointment isn’t until next week.

By the end of the second round, I was overheating (and not the kind you get from being outside; this is the unnatural heat that pops up with sweat beads in unison) and light-headed. During the third round, I just flattened on the mat after doing my knee pushups because I thought I was going to pass out and was seeing spots.

Gary came over to me, patted me on the knee, and told me it was up to me: I could rest until I was ready or I could quit. I wanted to quit. I really did. But.

I looked at the rack with my ultralight and its two ten-pound weights on each end. That damn thing has been the enemy lately. And I just couldn’t let it win. And I wasn’t going to give up; I’m just now starting to really see significant differences.

So I sat up, considered my options, and gave up the idea of quitting, at least for the moment. One more round, I thought. Gary gave me a hand up.

Now if he hadn’t been there, I would have quit. I kept thinking about what would happen if I passed out, but I knew that Gary would be there to catch me before I could hit the ground. Nothing really bad could happen to me, not with him watching. I trust him. I trust him that much.

So I knocked out the fourth round. As I put the next hatch mark on the white board, I seriously thought about quitting again. Still feeling light-headed and all the rest. But it was just one more round. I’d given up on worrying about my time; I was just trying to get through it. So I took the time I needed in between each exercise. And I did that last damn round.

Situps were the last item on the list. As soon as I hit ten, I started yelling, “Get my time.” Why? I don’t know. I knew it was going to be bad. So when Gary said “Twenty forty-two,” I first thought he meant twenty-four two. I asked him to repeat it. 20:42.

That’s not the worst time I’ve ever had; it’s not the best, not in terms of numbers.

But it’s the time I’m proudest of. Because I had every reason to quit and I didn’t. Sometimes you just have to prove it to yourself, not anyone else.

  1. […] actually started the last week of June. I alluded to the problems I’ve been having in “Why 20:42 is my best time ever, ” but now I’m going to come out and deal with it head […]

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