You may remember I wrote when my trainer (who became a friend), who had pulled me up and who had been helping to keep me well, embarked on a new venture in another country. I was more than a little sad, I was daunted and apprehensive.
I'm a slow burn. It had taken me years to unfurl in the spot where I had climbed and so I stayed sitting where I was...for 7 months. And then I was ready. I researched again. I took opinions again. I listened to my gut again. Last month I began again. Strength training. It is as much about growing my mental strength as my physical and I'm delighted that, with the right person, they go hand in hand.
I knew building a new relationship would be hard for me. The new venue would be hard. Pushing myself out the door, and in the door, would be hard. There were big boots to fill...
I've just completed my 6th session. I like him very much. He's very similar to what I've been used to, someone instinctive who doesn't push with exuberance but who pushes with precision. Someone who is on my team not just leading the team. Someone who is passionate about my path not just showing me his.
I feel safe. I feel challenged. I feel this is going to be good.
When he offered me his hand today, to steady me through a strength balance, it meant the world. Not in any way other than for me to feel grateful I have found a new friend to walk with for a while. Somebody new who knows my story and wants to help anyway. Accepting that hand showed me I trusted him, not something I do often.
I'm lucky. And I'm back. It was possible after all.
"It always feels impossible until it's done", Nelson Mandela.
The room above the garage.