Meet Jo Holness: Queen of Denial

Long ago, in a galaxy far, far away, I had what is commonly referred to as a skeleton.  Ribs and cheekbones.  A definable waistline.  Terms like “batwing”, “tummy tuck” and “double chin” weren’t part of my vocabulary.  Truthfully, I wasn’t fit, but I definitely looked the part, and I could certainly run up a flight of stairs (several, actually) without breaking a sweat.  Starting university, I was 5’11” and weighed 138 pounds, and like most dipstick teenagers, thought I was fat.  FAT!!  (It makes me WEEP to look at photos of myself from back then and think that I avoided wearing shorts and bathing suits.  If I had that body now, I’d wear the teeniest bikini on the beach and jog up and down all day long.)  Little did I know that I was in the best shape I would be for the next two decades or so...


Ah yes, the good old days, when I was FAT.  *sigh*

 

Despite thinking of myself as overweight, I ate whatever I wanted; thought exercising was fine (for other people) and never felt the need to do otherwise.  Well, you know what “they” say:  never say never.  I might have been the dimensions of an 80’s-era supermodel (not the face, but certainly the jeans size) at one time, but that was somewhere near the dawn of the Late Cretaceous.  Nowadays my jeans could likely be used as a sail for a small seagoing vessel.  As for fitness?  Well, the last time I really used my body the way God intended (please folks, let’s keep our minds out of the gutter.  There's barely enough room in there for mine!), I think Trudeau was in Parliament.  No, not Justin.  His dad. 

 

I’ll tell you:  denial is a powerful thing.  If my willpower was half as strong, you could crack open an icy cold Coke under my nose and I wouldn’t even blink when I turned it down.  Yup, I’ve been in extreme denial about just how far I’ve gone off the rails, health-wise.  An example, you say?  Well, it hit me the other day that I’ve been telling myself (and anyone else within earshot) that I’ve “always been thin” before now.  Hmmm.  “Always.”  When I actually did the math, I realized that I’ve been overweight and out of shape since the mid-90’s.  This translates into two decades worth, or approximately HALF MY LIFE.  Oy. 

Obviously my mind needs to catch up with (or is it slow down to?) my body.  However, just because I can understand the importance of fitness and proper nutrition on an intellectual level, that doesn’t necessarily mean I actually have the guts/know-how to get my body from its’ current crack-house state to a temple-like condition.  I’ve made some half-hearted attempts to get in shape in the past, but they always petered out after a few weeks or months.  I knew that if I wanted to actually achieve some measurable results, I needed professional help.  That’s where Flux Fitness comes in.

 

Flux Fitness is the brainchild of Patrick Langan.  (Complete disclosure demands that I reveal that Patrick is the significant other of one of my friends.  We met this past July.)  Patrick and I sat down together recently to talk about how he might take me on as a project.  It was during this conversation that I found that Patrick has a passion for fitness unlike anyone I’ve met before.  Just talking about the transformation of one of his former clients was enough to give him goose bumps.  If that’s not enthusiasm, I don’t know what is. 

 

As to be expected for a personal trainer, Patrick is in fabulous shape, but it’s not the off-putting muscle-bound, steroid-amped, gym-rat kind.  There’s a quiet intensity to him that is, frankly, awe-inspiring.  He takes fitness seriously, and he expects the same of his clients.  Which is fine with me.  I’m done with goofing around.  Staring down your fifties will do that to a gal.  As will the fear of horrible things like heart disease, cancer, Type 2 diabetes and a stranger asking me when I’m due.  Ahem.

 

What really impresses me about Patrick is that he hasn’t always been in shape.  He’s had his own challenges, and the empathy he’s developed is invaluable as far as I’m concerned.  The last thing I need at this point in my life is some hard-bodied twenty-something looking at me pityingly while I gasp out my last on the floor.  You can see in his eyes that Patrick is obviously thrilled about how he can help others to achieve greater fitness, because he knows what it did for his own wellbeing.  That’s something I can put my faith in. 

 

So in exchange for writing a blog which will document my transformation from couch slug to "Fit Jo", Patrick has agreed to train me.  He’s promised me two things:  1.) This will be tough, and; 2) It will be well worth the effort.  Which pretty much sounds like anything worthwhile I’ve managed to accomplish in my life so far.  Including parenthood.

 

In the coming weeks, I will blog about our training sessions.  I’ll track my progress, including weight lost, milestones reached and the high and low points.  And yes, there will no doubt be plenty of low points for whiny me.  I’d be surprised if there weren’t.  At this point, I’ll be amazed if I can do ten push-ups in a row.  Ahem.  Make that five.  As I’ve told friends in the past, it took more than a few months to get myself in this condition, so I’m not dumb enough to think it will take just a few to get back on track.  Although a girl can dream, can’t she?     

 

I am committed to this process, as I know Patrick is, as well.  Come along for the ride, chilluns.  It's bound to be bumpy, but I can assure you it won't be boring.  :)

 

"To strive with difficulties, and to conquer them, is the highest human felicity."

-  Samuel Johnson