I've intended to go ever since I arrived in Melbourne. At first, it wasn't feasible - bad asthma, a dodgy foot. Then ... no excuses. Until I went to an osteopath who said my body was too screwed up to do much more than walking for a few weeks. I have at least been doing the rehab exercises and can see a little improvement.
Scared that I don't have the capacity or energy to throw myself back into it. My mind still wants me to be the 8 times a week gym junkie I was in 2006. But I'm not that person any more, either mentally or physically, so it's time to let go and stop trying to get back to where I was.
Scared I'm going to get back into the routine, get injured and go through all of this all over again. Scared of gaining control and then losing it again. Scared to crawl out of the cocoon of numbness that I've been shrouded in for so long.
Scared to fail. Even more scared to succeed.
Yesterday, one little thing changed. I packed my gym bag and put it in the car. I had it with me when I drove to the shopping centre. I waddled up to the gym, gave my contact details and wandered inside. Realised I had no idea where the change rooms were, so sheepishly went back to the desk and asked for help. Once shown where they were, quickly changed and did what felt like the most piss-poor excuse for a workout ever. Post-workout thoughts "10 minutes on the elliptical trainer? Loser. 1.34 kms in 16:52 minutes on the Treadmill? Pathetic!" Thanks for the vote of confidence, brain. Screw you, bad thoughts.
But you know what? I'll do it again tomorrow. It will still feel poor workout, but it will be better than than yesterday's. The key right now is to not over-exert myself and get injured again. Eventually, I'll be doing workouts that make me feel proud of the effort and not feel like a shambling land-whale. The only way to kill this feeling is to chip away at it one workout at a time.
Taking that first step is always the hardest. The second one is a hell of a lot easier.