IVF took out my health. September of 2024, I couldn’t even walk one of our dogs for 10 minutes without spending the next 4 hours on the toilet with non-stop, exhaustion-induced diarrhea. At my worst, I struggled to remain seated upright and would pant with fatigue just from maintaining such a position. It was the first time in my life that I physically felt unhealthiness inhabiting my body. It felt different than catching the flu or getting injured. It was a black, tar-like heaviness seemingly woven into my muscles, my bones, my organs, gnawing on my health, slowly and surely destroying it. I felt like I was dying. Not metaphorically, but actually. I felt like I was being eaten alive from the inside out.
I also gained 15+ pounds due to all the medications. I admit I resorted to stress-eating too, and both Albert and I often didn’t have the bandwidth to cook at home due to all the craziness. Keeping a regular workout routine quickly became out of the question as well. By October, after we finally wrapped up IVF, I was still struggling to perform daily tasks with the amount of strength and endurance I once had, but I couldn’t wait any longer. I knew I had to start working out again as soon as possible if I wanted to regain my health.
I’ll be completely honest, though. There was a part of me that wanted to work out again because of vanity and insecurity. I wanted to look good simply for the sake of knowing that I look good. I wanted to stroke my vanity. It didn’t help that from the time I hit 18 and all throughout my 20s, I’d always been told that I have a nice body and/or am pretty. Ironically, hearing such compliments over the years didn’t build up my confidence but, rather, made me increasingly insecure as I grew older and found my body and looks changing organically with time. Indeed, it was only when I reached my 30s that I started to struggle with body image for the first time in my life.
By then, when I looked in the mirror, I could practically hear the ghostly echoes of the Compliments of Years Past telling me how pretty I looked. Then those same voices would start laughing and say, “Ew. Look at Ann. She sure let herself go after getting married, didn’t she? She used to be so thin and pretty!” Most haunting of all, though, was the voice of my abusive ex. I’d always imagine bumping into him and seeing a sneer spread across his face. In that made-up scenario, he’d look me up and down and think, “Damn. I’m glad I’m not with her anymore. Just look at how old and ugly she’s gotten.” The humiliation I’d feel in that moment…. I just couldn’t stand the thought of being judged and laughed at, even by imaginary voices in imaginary situations and especially by people as awful as my abuser. I had to start working out. I wanted to recognize myself in the mirror again.
Finding a gym was a journey in and of itself, especially because this is the first time I’ve ever joined a “hard-core” gym that isn’t simply an open gym, like Planet Fitness. I tried several different trials before signing on with the gym I’m at now. Franchise gyms, like F45 and Orangetheory, are cheaper than independent gyms, but they usually don’t correct your form during class nor do they give you enough time to lift/strength train properly. The emphasis is almost always on speed so that you feel like you’re getting a hard workout. Also, the instructor tends to demonstrate the exercises rapidly one time and then you’re on your own, relying on what’s basically an app on a large TV screen for any additional instruction for the rest of your work out.
On a side note, I thought about my dad more than once during my gym hunt. He’s been a serious body building hobbyist his entire life and taught me basic strength exercises and how to maintain proper form. I could see at a glance whenever I visited franchise gyms that more than half the class was doing the exercises incorrectly at best and dangerously at worst, and none of the so-called instructors were doing anything to teach injury prevention. My dad can really drive me crazy half the time, but I guess he’s done all right other times too.
Anyways.
Ultimately, franchise gyms make you do a lot of cardio via treadmills or aerobics exercises then move on to “strength training” that’s actually just cardio with weights. All the while, you’re depending primarily on an app on a screen and speeding through exercises without proper instruction, which increases the likelihood of injuries.
Despite all that, though, if I’d simply wanted more accountability, or if I really enjoyed the social aspect of gyms, or if I’d only wanted cardio and was intimidated at the thought of lifting, or if I’d wanted to go to only two or three classes a week, I think a franchise gym actually would have been a good fit. But because my health had hit an all-time low and because it’d been so long since I’d properly exercised, I knew I needed extra help to get back into the swing of things. I was also the heaviest I’d ever been in my life, and I was at a loss for how to get back in shape because I’d never been this out of shape to begin with. I wanted to find a gym that could give me optimized training and personalized instruction so that I could get my health back faster than I would on my own.
And that’s exactly why I joined my current gym.
The independent gym I’m at now is a completely different story from the franchise gyms I tried out, and despite the somewhat higher price, I can honestly say that joining this gym has been one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. It is a strength training gym. I know lifting can seem super intimidating or even unattractive, especially if you’re a girl who’s afraid of looking too buff. But the fact of the matter is, if you want to get physically stronger (and, therefore, healthier), build optimal muscle mass (which will better your metabolism and, in turn, fat loss), and create muscle definition (which will make you look more fit), you HAVE to strength train. Cardio alone will only get you so far.
The other reason I chose my current gym is because of how brutal the workouts are. None of the other gyms I tried can even compare. The lucky (or unlucky, whichever way you want to look at it) friends who have come with me using my guest passes will testify. Because it’s a strength gym that also incorporates HIIT exercises, you’ll be doing everything from burpees to jump lunges to planks to jump squats to push ups and V ups just for your warm up. After that, you’ll do the actual (and literal) heavy lifting before going into the part of the class that everyone dreads: conditioning. Get ready to throw medicine balls, do a million renegade rows, and sweat it out on the fan bike before running around the block on repeat. Most people feel like vomiting by the end of their first class. I was light-headed for most of the first two weeks.
I loved it, and still do.
The coach/owner of the gym, who has 14+ years of experience, breaks down every exercise so you actually understand what part of the body you’re supposed to be improving and how. He’ll walk around and independently coach you and stop you if you look like you’re going to injure yourself. He emphasizes precision and correct form over speed. He also does nutrition coaching and sits down with you every few weeks to go over progress and goals.
It’s been a bit over 2 months since I officially joined. I’m already visibly more toned and thinner. My clothes fit better. I can actually wear jeans without getting indigestion. I can breathe more easily while sitting because my stomach fat doesn’t clump up as much (no joke!). Last time my coach measured me, I’d lost 2% of my body fat and an inch off my waist. I’ve lost about 8 lbs. My coach makes all of us write down how much we’re able to lift during every workout, so I know that I’ve objectively been getting stronger. My first attempt at deadlifting was probably a 35 lb bar with minimal weights. Now, I think I can deadlift around 110 lbs or more. (My log is at the gym, so I can’t check right now. I’ll try to update this after I do.) (Update: I went from 35lbs to 105 lbs, so my guess was close!)
More surprising than the physical progress, though, have been the mental benefits. I’ve always heard people rave about how exercise is great for your mental health and how it’s life-changing and all that, but I always thought such comments were made by self-deceived people who were actually just trying to put a positive spin on what was really a pursuit of vanity. But, as it turns out, I was the self-deceived one because I have found, through first-hand experience, that there is a deep satisfaction to be gained from becoming physically stronger.
I think I’ll always remember the first time my coach made me try a push pull sled. The whole class had to take turns in a group relay, adding more weights each time someone successfully pushed the sled around the gym. There were literally hundreds of pounds on that thing at one point. When my turn to push all that weight came, I felt like Tanjiro in Demon Slayer when he was trying to push that gigantic boulder a few feet forward as part of his training with the Stone Hashira. Just like Tanjiro, I was grunting and straining and even shouting at times. I felt myself instinctively digging deeper and deeper into the spiritual core of myself as I tried to draw upon every drop of mental and physical strength stored within me.
Suddenly, I felt understanding click. I engaged my full core and all of my back, locked my arms, and pushed even harder. Everyone was clapping and cheering for me, the new girl, as I pushed that mountainous thing one step at a time. My shoes flew off my feet more than once. I might as well have had a jagged, Tanjiro-like scar flickering in and out of life on my forehead. Every time I felt like giving up, another member would cheer and remind me that I only had a few more steps to go. And somehow, I pushed hundreds of pounds to the finish line.
I never would have guessed that I had all that raw strength within me, especially after everything that happened with IVF. I’d been afraid that my body was irrevocably damaged from all the drugs and procedures. But more and more, I’m discovering that exercises which looked not only intimidating but downright impossible for me are now, somehow, magically possible.
Except it isn’t through magic. It’s through pure and simple hard work.
The mental high I get from having all the hours of ass-kicking training (in which it is my ass that is being kicked) pay off is indescribable. When I first joined, I was so weak and sickly that when my coach told me to do push ups, I only managed to do 3 before tapping out, and even those were heavily modified. While I still have to do push ups on my knees, it now takes at least 10 good ones with my nose nearly touching the floor for me to start feeling tired. It’s still a bit hard to believe that I’m capable of achieving such a feat, and as I continue completing more seemingly impossible feats with every passing week, I find that the can-do mentality I’m building through my workouts are spilling into other areas of my life.
Whenever I feel stressed or tired, fear of burn out or anxious thoughts of something going wrong are no longer my defaults. I now question if I really, truly am at my limit, or if I can push just a littler farther. Amazingly enough, 9 out of 10 times, I can, indeed, push not just a little farther but all the way to the finish line. I feel energized and excited to tackle obstacles because I have physical proof via the gym that I can try harder, I can get better, and I can always fly higher. I’m less fearful of failure because I’m more focused on the trying part, the how-much-more-can-I-pull-off part. Trying feels fun these days.
On another side note, I’m less fearful of strangers now because I know that I’m physically stronger and quicker than the majority of women I’ll ever meet and can probably give a good amount of men, even, a run for their money in a physical altercation. I can outdo most of the new guys at the gym now, after all.
Pushing myself physically to my limits has also improved the body image issues that had been plaguing me, but not in the ways that you’d expect. Yes, I do look thinner and more toned, but that’s not what’s given me peace because, at the end of the day, I’m never going to look like how I looked in my 20s ever again, and I’m never going to look like celebrities, who can spend millions of dollars on their looks every year.
But I know now that I’m pushing myself as hard as I possibly can, and because I’m always pushing myself to my limits, I know without a shred of doubt that I am trying my best. If I’m trying my best, and this is still the way I look, I can accept that and be happy with what I have. So, if I ever do bump into my ex again and he sneers at me, I won’t feel humiliated because I know I’m taking care of myself to the best of my ability. Anything above my best is an impossible standard that’s simply not worth getting upset over.
This isn’t to say that I don’t struggle with body image at all anymore. I do. And I’ll be very frank: I want to look good. There’s still a part of me that works out because I want to be hot. But I do think my definition of “hot” and “looking good” has changed from an impossible standard to a new standard that is defined, instead, by how hard I try and accepting the results that my best yields. As long as I’m trying my best, I honestly do think I look hot, even if I don’t reach the same weight I had at age 21. Now my bigger butt and sagging skin don’t always feel like losses. They feel increasingly normal and healthy, even. They’re an organic part of the circle of life in which I’m running hard and well.
More than anything, though, the best part of my fitness journey has been regaining my health. I’m so, so thankful that the tar-like feeling of sickliness has left my body. The bucketloads of sweat I’ve spilled also took the remaining medication in my body along with them so that I healed more quickly than if I hadn’t started exercising. Most, if not all, of the pain I was experiencing has subsided with my growing strength. I still am not as fit as I used to be, but I’m working hard toward creating a new norm for myself, and I’m proud and grateful to say that so far, I’m succeeding.
2025, I truly welcome you with open arms. IVF is gone from my life, and I’m ready to burpee, squat, lift, and jump through this new year.
Bring it on.
