My husband has infiltrated my private, inner circle at The Fitness Asylum. Be careful of your wishes; the result may differ than expected. Better or worse, his arrival has carried a mix of emotions.

Reminded of awaiting our second child’s birth, questions arose. Would I have enough love for number two, when my love for number one was over-the-top emotional bliss? Was I strong enough to care for two children when one seemed all I could handle? Should I rock the boat when we were sailing beautifully into the sunset? The results, overwhelmingly in favor of all areas of life proved worth the risk. Upon his birth, our second offspring doubled the love, in our home, one sibling to the other, and within my heart. The decision felt foolhardy to have ever wondered if adding a child to our lives was the correct one, when how much he added to our lives was significant.

Therefore, when my spouse took interest in my secret inner circle community, program, and lifestyle, I had questions that spewed within, wondering how I might handle the transition while I was grappling on how to make this journey sustainable and successful for myself. Would I have to be responsible for his food preparation, his exercise schedule, his potential failure and/or success? The kettlebell of questions was weighing heavy upon me.

For fifteen years, I have encouraged, role-modeled, nagged, yelled, and swore at the man I love to get his act in gear for the sake of himself, his children, his friends, his extended family, his business, and me. Yet after all my words fell upon deaf ears, I layed off and relented that until he decided to choose a healthy lifestyle, and practice self-care, I no longer could cheer or raise my hopes to any great heights.

Oh yes, each time I saw sneakers exit his closet, morsels of healthy food disappear from the fridge, and an out-stretched man exercising in the wee hours of the morning, hope would build, until those sights vanished again. Although dangerous to keep raising one’s expectations and hoping for change that result in defeat, I continued to hold out hope, wanting and waiting for change. I am his better or for worse partner in life. If this was the worse, then life had given me many gems and my wealth was considerable. Anticipating that better was eventually around the corner, I secretly trusted the man I married to want the best for himself when the time was right, and long before ‘too late’ reached him.

Now he has chosen, my hopes and fears aroused by the unknown outcome. As the body challenge approached, excitement ensued, but no conversations of how to proceed occurred. Six months ago, I dropped into a successful space, within a supportive community, and found myself changing, healing, and achieving what was deemed impossible to the masses. My weight loss, exercise journey was coming to fruition, and its sustainability was all I contemplated. How to continue the route with as much excitement and vigor as day one was my only task. With a spouse in the mix, how might that change, affect my ability to focus, energize, and realize my dreams? Was his presence a hindrance or helpful?

I prepped my food, and some for him, realizing that within two days, my refrigerator would empty quicker than usual, and begin I would to repeat the process. Wondering how twelve weeks at this pace could persist, when a whole lifetime lay ahead, I trembled to imagine. Yet within a day, he was cooking, prepping, talking about the journey, and responsible for his part. This is the better of our ‘for better or worse’ journey, believing it will last long after twelve weeks.

His first boot camp was a success, followed by soreness, enough to inspire rather than defeat. “Sore today, strong tomorrow” says my water bottle. Overall, his experience with the class and food has energized his outlook. The sign up for the body challenge was easy, the followup not impossible. Sharing the journey with him has brought us closer in a way I thought had vanished long ago. Having endured the worse in this arena for extended periods, the better has arrived, better late than never.

Our ‘For Better or Worse’ is off to a burpee start for the better!