Do you own your body?

Let me rephrase, do you confidently take ownership of your body? I’m not talking about do you decide who chooses to touch your body, I’m talking about can you look at yourself in the mirror and proudly say, “That’s me. I own this body, I nurtured and nourished, created this body.” When people give you compliments, do you dismiss them or accept them?

I’m the worst at taking compliments. I often discount them and never know how to respond. I refuse to give a compliment in recognition of being complimented because to me, it feels ingenuine. I dislike the idea of coming off like I was prompted. Only recently did I start saying “Thank you” without following it up with a, “I was sick all last week and lost weight” or prelude it with an “Ehh, it happens but,” as if I wasn’t working on my health every day.

That sickness and weight loss? I work my ass off every time to gain it back by eating healthy and lifting weights.

I still forever and a day call my abs groundhogs, as if they don’t pop almost every morning and as if I don’t have strong abdominal muscles. I do, I’ve always had a strong core because I’ve always loved working on building that strength, it’s the foundation to proper form for so many exercises. It’s true, sometimes they’re covered by, oh I don’t know, skin and some fat because that’s normal, rolls are normal. Yet, I often fail at recognizing how I worked for these muscles, whether they’re showing or hiding underneath.

I have worked for my strength.

I have worked at controlling my flexibility.

I have worked at my health.

I have worked at increasing my stamina.

I have worked at building muscle mass.

I have worked at fueling my body.

Yet, I always credit my difficult pregnancy for where I’m at despite the fact that even when I was pregnant, I aimed to eat healthy. After: I ate healthy. I got into yoga as soon as I was cleared. When I couldn’t stay on top of my fitness like I wanted to, I focused more on the nutrition side. I focused on what I could control.

Every day, I actively choose to say NO to foods and activities that make me feel like crap and say YES to those which nourish my body and mind. My favorite food is a fully loaded cheeseburger but it doesn’t always like me. I choose the rabbit food and lighter meal options because those are the foods that make me thrive and feel alive instead of sending me into a food coma. I workout daily, sometimes twice a day. I trade late nights out for early mornings at a yoga class.

While others make jokes or judgmental comments, I make moves.

And every time I feel extremely self-conscious when someone compliments by wanting my body, because instead of working for what they want, they wish for it.

It is not my place to feel at fault for this. It is not my responsibility to feel less than so they can feel comfortable.

This body didn’t happen overnight. I didn’t push my limits to overcome obstacles so I could forget my accomplishments. I should stand here with pride.

These abs? I was a night owl as a kid. I could never sleep. I could never calm down enough in the night so instead I exhausted myself by doing sit-ups and pushups in bed, by reps of 100 until I was tired enough to lay down and pass out.

These legs? I grew up in knee and ankle braces. The specialist I saw encouraged me to quit soccer, adamant I’d need a full knee replacement by my 30’s. I’m 29 and still running. The summer before I went off to college I spent hours in the gym every day to build up strength and work my way out of the knee braces.

These biceps and shoulders? I dedicate myself to modifying what I could do instead of not doing anything at all.

These lungs? I keep moving.

This stamina and drive to be fast? I give it my all.

I welcome the burn and then continue to press play. I push myself to the edge to expand new boundaries.

Last week I played soccer for the first time in almost a year. Last year, I only played twice. The year before that, three times. I haven’t played consistently since before I found out I was pregnant with Evelynn. Last week I played soccer and it wasn’t my best game. Last week I played soccer and had to remind myself that for not playing competitively in years, I played damn good. In a coed league with college male players, I kept pace with them down the length of the field when others failed to get back on defense. I stepped up and pushed through consistently when other players were giving up. My touches weren’t the best, but my legs—damn, did they love the burn and the movement—and my lungs—no asthma attack. I’ve always been one of the fastest players on the field, I still was—that’s my body. My body.

So I ask again, do you own your body? Do you set your boundaries, or do you let your lifestyle set your boundaries?

I love fitness because of what it provides me. Beyond the therapeutic release and the endorphins. It pushes me to keep going when I don’t think I can. It cements my belief in what I’m capable of. It gives me as much mental strength as it does physical strength, if not more.

I create my own limits.

And when I’m looking within, or when I’m looking in the mirror, it gives me pride to know every day I seize this body I was given, seize this opportunity, and turn it into something that’s constantly improving, becoming stronger, and performing better than the day before. I can stand there and say, “THIS is my body. I helped make this.”

I don’t see perfection. I don’t see results. I see the progress. I see future growth. I see the history. I see the boundaries I continue to expand. I see the body I’m working to build. I see a healthy running machine.

I see the body I own. I see the metaphor for how I tackle life.

What do you see?