Moms In Motion : Connecting Moms Through Fitness

Even from that first morning drive from Lompoc to the Moms In Motion training, I sensed an irresistible call to action. In fact, for a fleeting second around El Capitan, I was sure that all the cars ahead of and behind me were being driven by moms heading for the UCSB pool. In reality, I was a late entry and the group was already three times beyond the estimated count. There was no guarantee I'd be on the team--nevertheless, the mere act of packing my bag the night before; setting the alarm; and stealing out quietly to the car while my son and husband slept, ignited a spark in me that felt strangely monumental.

Driving along the coast after our work-out, I was exhilarated. I almost couldn't contain my joy. Everything--the ocean, the clouds, the golden hills around me seemed to be beaming. And none of this made any sense--I felt more physically exhausted and bleary eyed than I have in a long time. Was this an endorphin high? Or was there more going on here? Could I recall the last time I had worked my body this hard---had I ever? Going back in memory, it dawned on me that the last time I had done any real exercise was six years ago when, out of the clear blue sky, I was diagnosed with breast cancer. Although completely cancer-free today, in that moment of reverie, I returned to an incident that occurred in the first months following my diagnosis--one that has become a kind of touchstone for me in my training with Moms in Motion.

I had just started started chemotherapy treatments. As I was still teaching, the thought of losing gobs of hair terrified me. I was on my way home from L.A. after buying my first wig and ended up in a women's clothing store, a pile of clothes on my arm. Each time I pulled something over my head, I noticed patches of my hair clinging to the garment. As I sat down on the floor to begin picking the strands of hair off these new clothes, I met my reflection in the mirror. My hair was a drab, lifeless brown; my face looked haggard and old. I have never felt so ugly.
At that moment, I let go of the blouse, pulled my brush out of my purse, and began to brush my hair. I watched myself pull a handful of hair out of the brush, drop it in the wastebasket, and brush again. I have no idea how long I was in that changing room, but when I stood up, the wastebasket was full. The top of my head and the sides just above my ears were bald. Feeling alone and exposed, my eyes swollen with tears, I knew that if I could just find my car, I would survive this moment of total annihilation.

That day was to be my darkest--and the most meaningful--for I realized, in later reflection, that the women's clothing store I had been in was The Limited. To weather the storm that lie ahead I had to refuse to accept as real that dull, inert image of myself. My "recovery" unfolded as a creative process of rediscovering parts of my core nature I had pushed to the margins of my being through years of pursuing external goals. Breast cancer was a kind of initiation towards a deeper sense of my spiritual identity which I am gradually understanding to be innately whole, beautiful, and free.

Moms in Motion is at the very heart of my sincerest efforts to liberate my spirit and to shatter a limited self-image that I've kept company with for quite a long time. On that first morning of training, after running myself ragged around the UCSB track, I felt reborn--as if the pounding of my heart had quickened the lifeblood of dormant muscle fiber, invigorating my whole being with renewed life force. So began a new level of initiation--one that would teach me how to engage one's mind, body, and spirit to achieve a deep and very gratifying sense of aliveness. A quote I have saved since my last chemotherapy treatment demonstrates the profound and lasting effects our Moms in Motion training, right down to our rock goals, might indeed have for each of us:

"Traditional initiation rituals include a test of emotional and physical strength, proof of the ability to withstand physical pain, scarification, and a time of separation from the mainstream of life during which a person goes inside her own heart to find the meaning of her life. The old life then ends in a symbolic death, and the initiate is 'reborn' into a new psychological state. She enters back into the community with a new role in society, with a deeper connection to the wisdom in her own heart, ready to share what she has learned for the benefit of the entire community". --Cancer as Initiation by Barbara Stone

During the course of our trainings, I have experienced both thrilling highs and despairing lows. I have quit once and come back. But, it does not matter whether we leave training full of pride or ready to give up--the workout for the next week, supported by uplifting words from our beloved coaches, is always waiting--the signs of progress, although subtle at times, are shared by all. Through inspired leadership and natural grace, we have gained insights on how to build a strong, courageous, and generous heart. We have exercised our minds in setting meaningful goals and achieving them. We have been challenged daily to reach within to find a deeper purpose underlying our work in order to stretch beyond our perceived physical limits. What a way to live; what a way to thrive.

The triathlon is August 25th, but I believe the real test of our training will be how we take this show on the road--how we muster the motivation, initiative, and perseverance we need to carry forth the many lessons learned during this incredible, life-changing experience. For me, the road to total physical fitness may be long, but its foundation has been carved in stone through the devotion of every mom who, through her own brand of courage, vitality, and tenacity--not to mention the faithful support of her family--has given her all to a movement which will course through our lives forever.

Suddenly, in the midst of winter I discovered that there is in me an invincible summer. --Camus