Anyways... on to post #2.
I'm not really sure if any of you can relate to this post, unless you have ever had a significant weight loss or other body image change... but any former fatty will tell you that, after being overweight for the vast majority of one's life, it is difficult to get out of the "fat girl" mentality. For those of you who have never been fat, I'll try to explain. No matter how much weight I've lost or what size I'm wearing, I have always felt heavy through this entire journey. Even now, I don't see myself as a size medium girl at a healthy weight. Logistically, I know what I've accomplished and how much I've changed physically. But when I look in the mirror, I still see fat. I still get anxiety about going clothes shopping because I'm afraid nothing will fit, about being the person no one wants to be stuck next to on an airplane, and about having my picture taken because I hate being the big girl in a photo full of skinny folk. I don't tend to see myself the way others see me... I tend to see myself the way I saw myself for 30 years. Overweight and unattractive.
The "fat girl mentality" still follows me everywhere I go, regardless of how much confidence I gain in other areas of my life. No matter how many times I see pictures of the "new me", step onto a scale, or shock the hell out of myself by slipping into a pair of jeans I never thought would fit, there is still a stubborn part of my brain that is unwilling to shed the "fatty" label.
Over Christmas, I spent a lot of time visiting family and seeing people who I have not seen since before I began my transformation from fatass to badass. I was supremely flattered by their compliments and shocked exclamations of "I hardly recognize you!"... but part of me assumed that they were just being nice. I still couldn't see what they saw, no matter how desperately I wanted to.
With the new year just around the corner, I started to think about what my resolutions should be. The biggest one, obviously, was Twelve Months of Scared Sh*tless, as explained in my initial post. Other things on my list were mostly CrossFit related: double unders, an unassisted pull-up, a handstand pushup, and figuring out those damn cleans and snatches. But I also began thinking of what other aspects of my life still needed to change. I'd made so many positive changes in 2012, and was so happy with who I was becoming, and wanted to continue to change myself for the better, both physically and emotionally, in 2013.
That's when it occurred to me: maybe it was time to get my brain caught up with my body, embrace the transformation I've been undergoing, and start trying to see myself the way other people see me. Maybe it was time to lose the "fat girl mentality" at long last. Time to cleanse myself of my lingering negativity and self-doubt. Time to rinse away the last of the fatass and embrace the BADASS.
And obviously, what better way is there to cleanse one's soul than by hurtling into the frigidly cold waters of America's second most polluted waterway?
Yes, that's right. My Scared Sh*tless moment for the month of January was the Harmony Polar Plunge on New Year's Day. For those of you who are not familiar with the concept of a Polar Plunge, allow me to explain. A Polar Plunge is an event where a bunch of people get together to welcome the new year with a healthy dose of hypothermia by submerging themselves in their waterway of choice in below-freezing winter temperatures... for absolutely no reason at all. The Harmony Polar Plunge is EXTRA crazy, seeing as how the lovely Connoquenessing Creek is second only to the Mississippi River in toxic material content. So, not only is it *literally* freezing, but you run the risk of coming out with a third eye or extra appendage as a results of toxic mutation. But somehow, a bunch of crazy people think this is a really good way to kick off the new year.
This year, I was determined to be one of those crazy people.
The Polar Plunge definitely meets the Scared Sh*tless criteria of being completely terrifying, mostly because I have had a crippling fear of the Conny-Q ever since I spotted a school of ENORMOUS mutant fish under the bridge in Harmony that quite literally gave me nightmares for months. Fish creep me out anyways, and these fish were absolutely repulsive. The thought of them nibbling on my toes is enough to give me panic attacks. In addition to my fish phobia, the idea of leaping into frigidly cold water is not terribly appealing, especially when all of my medical-minded friends feel the need to bring up things like "cold water submersion arrhythmias" and "hypothermic shock". (Thanks, guys.)
In addition to being terrified of the filthy, freezing, mutant-fish-infested waters of the world's nastiest creek, the Polar Plunge fit the Scared Sh*tless criteria because it was symbolic of positive change as well as overcoming fear. I decided to view the Plunge as a baptism of sorts: an opportunity to wash away the stubborn remainders of my negative self-image, to cleanse myself of self-doubt, and to rinse away the last of my old, timid self to reveal the new me underneath. I was ready to see myself as everyone else seemed to see me, and I couldn't think of a better symbol of a fresh start than literally freezing my old self-image out of my mind. I was taking the Plunge.
I have to say, it was a surprisingly awesome experience. My dear friend Lynn, who helped me to established the Scared Sh*tless concept and who plans to share in all twelve months of adventure, was just crazy enough to join me in this particular endeavor. Together, we enjoyed a few cocktails at the Harmony Inn, then bundled up and walked the 5 or so blocks to the Harmony Canoe Launch, where a surprising number of equally insane people were gathered around a massive bonfire. Evidently I wasn't the only one ready for a fresh start in 2013. Or maybe everyone else was just drunk and looking for something to do while the local bars were closed. Hard to say. But either way, there were about 65 plungers in all.
Surprisingly, the Connoquenessing looked peaceful and pretty that day, rimmed with ice and surrounded by 6 inches of crisp white snow. If you were able to overlook the yellow caution tape and the scores of emergency response personnel flocking the boat launch, and if you could forget about the gaping-mouthed mutant fish lurking just below a thin film of ice and toxic sludge, you could almost say that it was a beautiful sight to behold. After a few cocktails, that is.
The lovely waters of the Conny-Q
Pre-Plunge
I knew I needed to be one of the first to take the plunge, or else I would wimp out. So when they started lining people up in groups of ten, Lynn and I forged our way towards the front of the line. We managed to squeeze into the early group of plungers. When the MC started the countdown, I was immediately reminded of the familiar 10-second timer at the box, and all of my toxic fishy fears evaporated and were replaced by the surge of adrenaline that I always feel before a particularly horrifying WOD. 3... 2... 1...
...GO!
Here's a video... I'm in green. You can't see my plunge, but you can see me run past everyone else and run back out. And I think you can hear me scream. ;-)
I took off at a run down the ramp, passed the four or five people who had lined up ahead of me, and, without hesitation, dove head-first into the creek.
I wish I could say that I had some deep, philosophical thoughts as I submerged myself in the unspeakably frigid and unthinkably gross water, but the fact is, all of my brain cells froze instantly and, as far as I can recall, the only thought that crossed my mind was how freaking cold I was. But as I swam back to shore and sprinted out of the water, shrieking and giggling simultaneously like a complete psychopath, I felt something I hadn't felt in a long time. I felt like a kid. I felt like the crazy, care-free, fearless child who used to cannonball into my mom's swimming pool in the dead of winter because the neighborhood kids double dog dared me, or who would eat the insanely hot peppers used to flavor Chinese food just because my sister bet me her fortune cookie that I was too chicken to do it. Doing something so completely ridiculous with no real purpose besides a cheap thrill... it made me feel like my 10-year-old self. And I... freaking... LOVED IT.
Dash for dry land!
As I warmed myself by the bonfire and my brain cells slowly began to come out of their state of shock, I started thinking about this crazy thing called adulthood into which I'd stumbled over the past decade. We spend so many years wanting to be more grown up, wanting to be older, wanting to find ourselves. But now, on the verge of my 31st birthday, it occurred to me that I wanted nothing more than to lose myself in the simple, childish thrill of not acting grown-up at all. In a world where there are always responsibilities and consequences and extenuating circumstances, what could possibly be more refreshing than a moment of pure juvenile silliness?
I thought back to the things that had made me so happy over the past 12 months. To the crazy rush of adrenaline I felt after a great CrossFit WOD, or the intense feeling of unadulterated glee following a big PR. It occurred to me that these feelings weren't entirely new. It was the same rush I'd felt at 8, careening down a double black diamond ski slope at reckless speed, with the wind causing my eyes to tear and drowning out my irate mother screaming at me to slow down. It was the same feeling I'd had at 12, in the show ring aboard my beloved horse, soaring over the last jump in a jump-off and flying through the end timers, knowing without looking at the clock that no one was going to beat my time. It was the feeling that nothing in the whole world mattered except for that very moment, and in that moment, I was completely unstoppable. In that moment, I could do anything. As I grew up to be just another adult working too many hours a week and shuffling through a mundane life, I lost that feeling. And now, at almost 31, I realized that I had found it again. And, much like it had been at 8 and 12, it was still the absolute best feeling in the world.
I don't think I really achieved my initial goal with the Polar Plunge. I wasn't able to magically erase all of my self-doubts and 30 years worth of negative self-image with one symbolic leap into a creek... I think that will take time and practice, although I'm definitely working on it. But I was able to accomplish something so much better: I found my inner kid. I don't know where she's been hiding for the past decade (held hostage by three-eyed giant fish in the depths of the Connoquenessing, perhaps?)... but damn does it feel good to have her back!
Post-Plunge
Attempting to warm up!
Tomorrow, I will turn 31 years old. It is an extra special birthday, because it marks one year since the craziest, most fulfilling journey of my life started to take shape. And while I always thought that being "in my 30's" would feel old, I actually feel younger than I have in years. My new New Year's resolution is as follows: I will not lose that inner child; the one who embraces silliness and frivolity and unfettered, thoroughly self-indulgent glee. There will still be a job to attend, a mortgage to pay, a marriage to tend to, and countless other adult responsibilities to handle. But this year, I promise to unapologetically pursue the things that I enjoy. I promise to do things "just because". I promise to never again lose sight of how glorious it feels to forget the world and lose yourself in something that makes you ridiculously, deliriously happy, even if only for an instant.
After the Polar Plunge, Lynn and I went back to the Harmony Inn, changed out of our icicle-laden clothing, and spent the next few hours enjoying a beer (or three) while discussing all of the amazing, ridiculous, possibly slightly insane things we want to do this year. Jump out of an airplane? Why not? Pay a large entry fee for a race where we will knowingly be subjected to electric shock? Damn skippy! The more we talked, the more excited I got, and the less scared shitless I became. Clearly my inner kid is way more of a badass than my frumpy adult self, because she can't wait to get started on this wild and crazy bucket list of a year. And as I walked home that afternoon, my step a little bouncier and my heart a little lighter, I couldn't resist stopping to make a snow angel in my front yard. Just because.
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