Ouch.

Y'all. About an hour ago I finished up Session 1 of Level 1 of The 30 Day Shred. And let me tell you something...it hurt. Although, it didn't hurt then nor does it hurt right now as badly as it's going to hurt tomorrow morning when I wake up. To add insult to injury, I'm going to subject myself to the same pain tomorrow. And the next day. And the next day. [Hence the title of the dvd] Why in the world did I even start? It's only going to get worse before it gets better. I've done this before so on Saturday when I got the bright idea that I would begin the shred again today, I should have reconsidered. For those of you who aren't couch potatoes who find it entertaining to sit at home on the sofa while watching a show about people who lose massive amounts of weight by way of sheer torture, The 30 Day Shred is kind of like the home edition of The Biggest Loser. Except Jillian isn't as mean. And it only lasts for 20 minutes instead of a whole television season. I do believe that if she goes to Peru instead of the Aruban authorities to question Joran van der Sloot he will start speaking the truth in about 17 minutes. Anywho, I'm not here to talk entirely about Jillian and her tough love. But seriously, why do we put ourselves through the pain of this extreme workout? Because in the back of our minds, we believe and hope that it really is going to make a difference in the way that we look and the way that we feel and improve our overall health and well being. And after we do it once and experience a little bit of success, we'll keep going back. The pain becomes worth the pay off.

I've been thinking about this idea a great deal these days. It seems that pain is more often than not the price for improvement. For example:

It's not really pleasant to get my eyebrows waxed (confession: now I find it relaxing and I really love it, but that was not the case at first), but I love the way that they look in a couple of days after the red streaks have faded.

Walking through Hartsfield when the train isn't working in my best high heels is nothing short of uncomfortable. Especially when I'm a hurry because I'm late for my flight. But without those heels my outfit would not be as cute.

There's a reason why the phrase "No pain, no gain" is so popular. Because it's true. We see the benefit and the improvement on the outside and we also feel it on the inside. In the nine years since I graduated from college (um, gulp, I'll deal with that realization another day) I have probably lost a total of 40 pounds. (yep, it's fact) It was a result of exercise and lifestyle change. Sure, it wasn't fun at first and there were days that I had to force myself to go to the gym instead of McDonald's, but eventually I welcomed the sore legs because I knew that something good was happening to my body.
So...what's the difference between the above mentioned types of pain and emotional pain? Is there one? It seems like when tragedy happens or we experience hurt or grief or loss or anything that makes us sad, we immediately look for comfort. Alright, I immediately look for comfort. I can't speak for everyone else. Why is it that I welcome the fact that my legs are already so sore (I've taken a couple of breaks while writing this) when I walk down the stairs, yet I pray to Jesus for this pain in my heart to get better. Preferably by yesterday. Can't this type of pain also be an indicator that we are becoming healthier and improving our lives? I choose to believe that yes, the pain is worth the pay off!

It is easier to recognize the need to shape up when we can look in the mirror and see that the skirt no longer zips or that where we once had 2 eyebrows they have been joined together in a blessed union to become one. Or maybe it's not so obvious that others would notice, but you can tell. I believe that just as we continuously assess the need to make ourselves better on the outside, we should also look within to see if there is a need. I've learned though that looking within is a little more challenging. It's painful to simply recognize that we need to improve our hearts. But the one that matters the most recognizes it long before we do. And just like our parents signed us up for painful things during childhood because they knew that we needed them to survive (i.e., swimming lessons), our heavenly Father will sign us up for events that might result in some emotional pain because He knows that in the long run our hearts need them to survive.

It seems that the pay off is never immediate. The discomfort lasts long enough to make us remember that it's not easy. But typically when you have to persist through something, the victory is even sweeter and we are more appreciative for it.

Sure, there are questions along the way:
What does Jillian mean when she says "phone it in at the gym"?
Is the lady waxing my eyebrows talking about me to her coworker? And why did her coworker just look over at me and giggle?
Will my future Medicare coverage pay for my foot surgery that I'll need when I'm 64 if I continue to wear these awesome heels?
Why does my water dog with webbed toes hate getting a bath so badly? [oh, never mind, that's irrelevant to this post, but I did ask myself that question tonight when I was wrestling him into the tub]
Because I'm sad, does that mean that one day I'm going to end up being mean to people like Jillian?
Can't I just wear a tank top and shorts to the beach instead of a swimsuit?
Am I being Punk'd?

Any time we find ourselves feeling a little uncomfortable, it's natural to ask questions. But it's how we respond to the questions that matters the most. If we talk ourselves out of trudging along through the pain, we will never get to the pay off. Sure it's easier in the immediate future, but not in the long run, is it? [Trust me, plucking as opposed to waxing hurts much worse.]

And the hard part is that until we've been through it and get past it and actually see the end result, it's easy to doubt and get discouraged. Enter faith and hope. If we are equipped with those two elements during a painful situation, we become confident and we persist. Persistence leads to success.

Eventually the pain subsides because we are conditioned to handle what we have been training for or what God has been preparing us for. The pain is replaced with the thrill of victory. And while the bronze or silver would have been pretty cool, if we keep on keeping on and put our whole heart into it there's nothing quite like the gold.