Tori startled awake for the third time in a week. The shock from her recurring nightmare lingered, as she tried to regain her composure. In the dream, she was desperately reaching for a hand hanging on for dear life from a nondescript ledge. As in the other dreams, the hand slipped from her grasp. Just as it faded from view the image was of a young version of herself falling out of sight. A not subtle metaphor for her life, she thought.
"My life is great, I am incredibly fortunate!" she said to herself, trying to will away the image of her youth literally slipping from her grasp.
She cherished her family, truly. But no amount of placating or positive spin could change how difficult it felt for her as an over-worked mom of two girls (eight-year-old Ashley and ten-year-old Charlotte), with more activities in a week than there were days in a month.
Her husband of thirteen years, Paul, carried far more of the load than any husband she knew. She was the envy of all her married friends and was all too aware that if not for Paul, her life would completely unravel. He was her reliable, trusty rock. Imagining even their easiest day without her unsinkable buoy made her shudder. Her work as managing partner in an ambitious, growing consulting firm placed demands on her that stretched well into most evenings, frequently losing a weekend a month to some unavoidable crisis. Her travel had increased from quarterly to monthly as well. Yet affable, unflappable Paul was always there, enthusiastically solo-parenting at the drop of the hat in her absence.
Despite his best efforts, even vacations that he planned from door to door never quite took the edge off for Tori. Even when all she had to do was just show up, things wouldn't reset for her. Not even five-star luxuriating could fully cleanse the baggage she carried into the trips. She returned feeling overwhelmed by imaginary crises building at work in her absence.
"I swear, Tori, you're the only person I know who needs a vacation from vacation," her closest friend Rena said when Tori complained once after returning from the Bahamas. "If you tell me one more time how stressed you are after you go on a dream trip, I will literally murder you. I know, deep down, you're not an ungrateful bitch, but you can certainly act like one."
Tori understood and resolved again to tone herself down and show more appreciation for all that she had going in life: two adorably sweet and precocious girls, a doting and handsome husband, a challenging and well-paid job, and an honest, albeit pain in ass, best friend.
Despite all of the positive affirmation, Tori still felt she couldn't ignore her recurring nightmare, feeling like her vitality was literally slipping out of her grasp. She couldn't pep talk away the fact that she had let herself go for years. Paul never said so, as he showed the same interest in her as ever.
Tori knew she was a long, long way from her soccer playing days in college or the marathon running of her late twenties. Her gym membership had gone unused for more than a year, and eating well felt impossible with her demanding schedule. If not for Paul's healthy habits and cooking, she felt like she'd be a whale.
There was the lack of attention as well, and it was glaring. Paul was reliably there to boost her ego when she needed it and he doted on her in every way. But even his unwavering affection and adoration couldn't replace what was missing: frequent attention from men. Sure, the odd leering look would come her way, but it was not even in the same ball park as it once was.
So many men (and some women) used to remind her of her appeal in not-so-subtle ways. It used to be such a pervasive part of her life that its absence now felt glaring. Despite adopting a stand-offish persona and a conservative fashion style to limit the extreme advances, she still received suitors of all kinds for most of her adult life. She didn't miss the lecherous, uncouth advances or cat calls. Nonetheless, she did notice it was absent. Although conflicted, she missed the ego boost.
The need for an intervention of health in her life was coming to a head. She had to take her health back, and if her appearance would rebound, then all the better. Approaching forty years old, she thought, a little attention seeking is normal and healthy.
"Rena, I need you to help me get back into shape," she texted her best friend one late night.
"When did you send me this text?" replied Rena the next morning. "You need to start sleeping better. Start with that. You can't get in shape if you don't sleep."
"Sorry," replied Tori. "I know! I worked late, had fast food for dinner (ugh) and realized after I got home after eleven that I can't continue this unhealthy life. Can we train for a marathon again?"
"YES!" replied Rena. "But only if you take it seriously!"
Three days later, they began nine months of training for the marathon. The first few weeks were stop and go. Tori knew she was out of shape, but was surprised by her appalling lack of conditioning. Rena was floundering as well. After a particularly lackluster effort to run just three miles, where each of them walked more than they ran, they decided outside help was needed.
Sitting in Tori's kitchen contemplating their setback, Rena popped up, startling Tori, "That's it. I'm not having this crap. We can't do this on our own. We need professional help. Now!"
Rena whipped out her phone and searched for running coaches, and found a glut of results nearby. "OK, there are almost too many options," she said, chuckling. "Given our sad state, I'm not sure we need to be picky. Any with good recommendations within a half-hour should do fine."
Their trainer had Rena and Tori feeling like world-beaters in short order. They focused on whole-body improvement, not just road sessions. The trainer had them blasting their cores and cross-training more than they would have ever considered on their own. She was a diet guru as well, helping them manage intermittent fasting without losing energy or relapsing.
Eight grueling months later, the results were undeniable. Both Rena and Tori were well past their lap and timing goals. The combination of whole-body fitness and diet had them both feeling like much younger versions of themselves. Tori had dropped twenty-five pounds, her lowest weight since well before her first child. She felt more developed and fit than even her college soccer days. She was also in need of a whole new wardrobe, having dropped two sizes and five inches around her waist.
She asked Paul what he thought about her new abs one day as she stood in front of the mirror.
"I'm so impressed with you, gorgeous!" he said. "I'm proud of you, and pleased that you feel so good!"
"But can I be totally honest sweetheart?" he asked. Tori became concerned.
"I'm starting to feel a bit self-conscious around you now," he continued. "In some ways, I miss the old you. I know you're the same wonderful, amazing woman, but I can't help but think that you now look at my dad-bod and you'll feel it's not good enough anymore."
"I love your dad-bod!" she answered emphatically as she rubbed his slight paunch. Catching herself, Tori pulled back her hands, hoping to soothe the wounded look from her husband, "You are my sexy man, Paul. You're perfect for me."
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