Health issues and early retirement gave Lisa the push she needed to put her fitness at the top of her to-do list. 

As women, so much of what we do revolves around taking care of others. We strive to keep our kids healthy, our bosses happy and our homes running like well-oiled machines. It wasn't until I retired three years ago, at the age of 50, that I realised that in all of that craziness, I had missed out on one essential thing: taking care of myself.

For most of my life, I was never what you'd call "unhealthy," but apart from participating in an office-run 5K every year (which I walked and slowly jogged), I never did much for my wellbeing. My husband and I were involved with our church, and we had three kids, all of whom are seven years apart. This meant I was involved with carpool and school activities for a good two decades. Plus, as a special agent for the federal government, I often found myself up at odd hours of the night serving warrants, and as my career advanced, dealing with progressively more stress, which eventually took its toll on my body.

A few years before my 50th birthday, I was put on medication to control my cholesterol, which had topped out at 310md/dL. (Less than 200 is optimal for good health.) And shortly before I retired, I was diagnosed with a perforated colon, a condition that can be caused by a variety of illnesses, including ulcers and appendicitis. It was so severe that I had to wear a colostomy bag for three months. To attach the bag, my doctors opened my abdominal cavity, cut my intestines, pulled them out from an incision in my side and sewed the end to a bag that hung outside my stomach, collecting my stool. When I was healthy enough that I no longer needed the bag, I had another surgery to reconnect my intestines.

Sure, that was all pretty awful. But to me, the scar from the colostomy operations was the worst part. Marking up my stomach and sides, the scar was like a bull's eye on my body's "trouble spots." I had always carried extra kilos around my waist. But now, with core muscles that were damaged and atrophied, my post-surgery stomach drove me crazy. My doctor said to give it a year, and then we could consider a second surgery to address the scarring and excess weight that puckered around it.

But I was dead-set on not going under the knife again. I knew I could find a way to fix this on my own. 

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