Not much feels better than standing in triangle, face turned skyward, watching puffs of white dandelion float past against a pure blue sky, the breeze warm against my cheek.
Not much feels better than unfolding myself from my office chair and running out the door and around the block, a different kind of wisdom burbling up from my soul. Out of my head and into my body, the logic marching sharply from my brain slows to a trickle, for a short time at least. A ribbon of calm energy trails me around for the rest of the day, nudging me every so often to stand and stretch, to walk around.
Not much feels better than moving, remembering your physical power, agility, flexibility, balance and strength.
Not much is more demoralizing than pushing hard in a workout, and realizing, too late, that there is such a thing as too hard.
What did the fish say when it swam into a wall? Dam!
I do this. Every year, every time I return to working out after time off, I do this. One would wonder why that is. Twenty single-leg squats per leg. Three sets. That’s one hundred and twenty in total. Does that sound easy? No. Does that sound like a wise thing to do, out of the blue, when I’ve only been working on one set of twelve reps the week prior? That wasn’t even what hurt though. Not really. Not as much as whatever I did to my left bicep. Like, maybe you weren’t listening to that bicep screaming? The one that said ‘would you mind putting down the dumb-bell already?’
I am not entirely demoralized though. Quite the contrary. Since I’ve started the conditioning program, however erratically, I’ve been running better, stronger, finishing with speed instead of flagging into the drive-way after a lap. So, I have to back off the intensity a bit, take a few days off to give my muscles a break, walk and stretch and heal. And then try again, though maybe this time I’ll go for first gear instead of shifting straight to fourth.
Wish me luck. Or the wisdom to take it easier.