Pride and Passion

It wasn’t fun being fifty pounds heavier and a foot shorter than all of your middle school classmates. The hundreds of pairs of wandering eyes questioning what made you this way. There’s no good answer. I always found comfort in eating, which passively led to a body that I didn’t care for but my classmates did.

High school was a fresh start, and I couldn’t have been happier. My new classmates and peers began to appreciate me for who I truly was as a person, and I had finally found a place where there were so many other people who were excited to come to school every day and learn. But one problem remained: I still wasn’t confident in my body. People at Marin Academy didn’t care that I was overweight, but I did.

I began a full-time job at a local club as a camp counselor. I spent hours in the sun watching over a dozen toddlers as they ran around and enjoyed themselves. One of the perks of this low-paying job was that I got free access to the club’s gym. After my second day of work, I decided to walk into the gym and try to exercise. I was self-motivated for the first time ever.

It was terrible.

I wore a long-sleeve oversized cotton t-shirt, trying to conceal my weight, as I haphazardly lifted weights for about ten minutes. I noticed the stares and children’s snickering, and I promptly left. I went home and cried myself to sleep. I didn’t want to be laughed at or humiliated, but I wanted to improve myself.

My body was in a constant state of soreness, and for a long time, I didn’t really know what I was doing in the gym. But as I gained confidence, I began experimenting with different exercises, refining new muscles. I reached out to friends, trainers, teachers, and mentors for advice. Slowly, I began to see progress.

Contrary to my new found passion, when I was young I found sports games and practices to always be a huge source of stress because I could never perform at a physical level, and it felt like I was working extremely hard for something people around me really cared about, but I didn’t. Working out alone for a few hours every night was the first time I had ever committed to the improvement of my body out of personal determination. It was the first time I had ever truly worked for something I cared about on a physical level, and the emotions I felt when I saw myself in the mirror lifting weights or in the kitchen eating healthy meals wasn’t stressful but enjoyable. I had finally found a true passion in my life and I had never felt better.

It was months before I saw true improvement, before I felt better about myself, before people stopped staring and snickering when I entered the gym. But the results were priceless.

Standing in front of a mirror one day and seeing a person who you’re proud to have staring back at you is the best feeling in the world.