Way back in December, I promised a friend who was organizing a charity event that I would participate. I knew that the event was sometime in April, and that I would have to climb some stairs. This promise was built upon three things:
1. I needed a plot arc for our 10 week fitness challenge here at FFP. This seemed like a convenient storyline. Fat girl climbs stairs, loses weight, gets fit, triumphs in big event.
2. I told myself in broad, strong terms that I would definitely be practicing regularly, working out, climbing stairs, and getting fit for the challenge, declaring that having such a public event on the horizon would obviously force me to do it.
3. April seemed so vague and insubstantial that I felt like it might never come. The Dominion Tower could turn into a spaceship and fly away. I could move to another country. I could become a mermaid. All kinds of things could prevent me from actually having to do it, so I said…
YES I WILL CLIMB 25 FLIGHTS OF STAIRS!
Well, yesterday was the day. And I did it, in 11 minutes.
Here I am at the top of the Dominion Tower, having climbed 25 flights of stairs. That’s Norfolk behind me, far below. I was tired, sore, and sweaty, but it really wasn’t that bad. I’m glad I pushed myself out of my comfort zone to do this, because at the end of the day yesterday the thing that I had been worrying about for all those months was really… not a big deal.