A Full Tank of Gas

Yesterday, I started my first cardio kickboxing class in years. The last time I did kickboxing was in university and before that, in high school so it's been a good couple of years and I was scared to death. I actually had butterflies in my stomach. I guess it was a combination of meeting new people (always a little scary, especially after a break up) , potentially not being able to make it through a full class and fearing judgment from others. It's not easy. Anyway, turns out, I did make it through the class and with more energy than most of the flimsy girls there! And I was actually quite proud of myself and proved that you don't have to be thin to be fit.

So, I left my first class sweaty yet invigorated. I spent the next half hour cruising around the city in my car with a full tank of gas and my music pumped. It felt good. I must add that a full tank of gas is key because for some reason, having the dial on the gas meter pointing to "F" gives me a sense of independence, like I could go anywhere and no one can stop me. I suppose it's another one of those little things that makes me happy. Silly but true.

I guess I was reminded that things can be really bad sometimes, so bad that you want to give up and take the easy way out but all it really takes is one moment to turn things around again and give you hope.