I attended an exercise boot camp at a local gym this past Friday.  Three days later, I can barely walk.  Walt keeps making fun of me because every time I bend over, I make these awful sounds. Compassion, as you can see, is not his strong suit.

I’m coaching a group of women who are running their first half marathon for charity.  One of the perks New Horizons, the sponsoring organization, gives to each participant is a 12- week membership to Tyler English Fitness Systems’ boot camp.  Let me tell you, I consider myself a pretty fit chick, and these smiley-faced sadists made me weep.

Right now, I’m looking down the barrel at two ass-kickings per week. And I’ve got some rather mixed feelings about this. Particularly since I’m scheduled to go back tomorrow. I’m wondering how I can maintain my dignity in public while whimpering like a baby.

On one hand, how cool would it be to squat and lunge my way to 16% body fat and a rock solid booty?

On the other hand, I’m all for sidestepping searing pain.

It’s human nature to avoid discomfort—the physical variety, and the emotional.  Even when we recognize that what we want most is just outside our comfort zone.

Here’s a real eye opener. When we numb ourselves to pain, we inadvertently numb ourselves to joy. This is a real problem for those of us raised in alcoholic homes. But that’s another blog.

I’ve created so many problems for myself by clinging to comfort, by avoiding pain at all costs.

• I’ve stayed quiet when I should have spoken
• I’ve quit when I should have pushed ahead
• I’ve agreed when I totally disagreed
• I hid when I should have stood my ground
• I’ve looked away instead of confronted
• I’ve eaten cookies instead of figuring out what was bugging me
• I’ve stayed small instead of opening myself up for criticism
• I’ve played the victim instead of risking personal failure

If we just knuckle down and move through discomfort we stand to reap the most amazing rewards.

Pushing through unpleasantness is how I found my confidence, earned my self-respect.

If I can run 8 hours uphill, and carry an 80-lb pack at altitude for 21 days; rip my fingers off of an unhealthy long-term relationship; tell the God’s honest truth, really, short of death, what’s going to stop me? What raggedy-assed obstacle do you think is going to throw me off my track?

I may bitch and moan, but I’m going to show up for the next UNFORTUNATE workout because I’ve gained so much by forging ahead when what I wanted to do most was turn and run. 

What might you gain if you were willing to endure discomfort?

What lies beyond:

• That dreaded conversation?
• That first week of sore muscles?
• The mindlessness of autopilot?
• That empty bed?
• The bend in the road?
• The ringing quiet?

Here’s what my organic chemistry professor, Dr. Bobbit, used to say whenever we complained about an upcoming exam:  You people spend more time worrying about it, than actually doing it. Just  get the thing done.

So, go, reap your reward.