I'm one of those people who has always had issues with "athletics", in fact most kinds of physical activities.

I do remember this time, back when I was 12, 13, 14 - in that age range - where I was actually good at a few things, like basketball and sprints and hurdles. I have this vague memory that I actually used to enjoy moving my body, pushing myself and testing my physical limits.

But then somewhere, 'round about the 10th grade, I stopped enjoying it. I wasn't the most gifted at sports and the competition to be "cool" amongst the girl jocks just got to be too much. I started choosing to hang out with girls who smoked and drank and began to avoid physical activity of most kinds (if it didn't involve dancing, drinking and having sex).

Eventually, genetics also kicked in and I started losing the body that had allowed me to do those kinds of things at all, to the point where, last year, sometimes I was completely out of breath and exhausted just walking up the hill to my house.

About a year ago, I discovered that I was diabetic. Thankfully, not the type 1, insulin dependant kind, but a health issue all the same. It rocked my world. I saw my own mortality and began to face what I had been doing to my body for so many years and how much I hated myself, physically. I hated that I couldn't run for a bus, that walking was exhausting me, and especially that I had developed this disease, FOR LIFE, that could make me go blind or lose my feet, and all kinds of other nasty complications.

So, I set about to turn it around. And now, a miraculous thing has happened. For the past 7 months, I've been working out every week with a personal trainer. She kicks my ass. I sweat and groan and my muscles hurt most days. And I LOVE it.

I've lost 45 pounds to date and I'm actually enjoying exercise for the first time in about a million years. Most days I even look forward to going to the gym. It has stopped beng this scary, mysterious place where I could never belong, full of fit people who I imagine are looking at me with scorn. The weight machines aren't these complicated things that I could never possibly figure out.

This little private gym, with it's friendly people (all of whom work with trainers, who are also excellent folks) has become a place of solice on my life. I get to see results ever week, as my strength improves - I can now bench-press 50 pounds - and my long-lost, almost non-existant for 20 some years, muscles begin to show.

It suprises the hell out of me, but I would highly recommend the trainer route to anyone who knows what I'm talking about here. It's so much easier when you have someone there who knows what you're supposed to do. Someone who can be your cheerleader, especially on those days when you eally don't feel like doing it. She's the motivation and discipline I've never had on my own and well worth the money it costs. I don't hate my body so much any more these days, and yesterday I ran a block for the bus without getting winded.

I'm playing volleyball once a week all summer, and who knows, maybe one day I'll be one of those girl jocks after all.