I wanted to share about something I started almost 5 years ago. It was right after my son was born, the child that completed the family. I looked at where I was in my body and was so unhappy that I started to have an affair. It started privately, up on the 3rd floor, away from prying eyes. It had to be scheduled around school pick ups and nap times. I felt terrible at first...but the rush, the sweat, oh, it was so dirty at times! I was thrown about, exhausted. I giggled. I lifted my legs OVER my head. On my side, on my belly, on all fours, upside down. You name it. I just kept at it. Sometimes my nethers got all numb from the non stop, hour at a time bike riding...
Yes, bike riding.
Where did you think I was going with this?
(I like writing and/or saying the word, nethers)
Anyhoo....sometimes it was pilates. Sometimes it was a cardio mix or an embarrassing dance video. I started moving again. I believe the word is exercise. I saw it more as exorcise, but that is just semantics.
Be gone demon baby hormones!
Be gone double chin!
I send thee down into hell, 3rd roll! 'Tis only room for 2!!
After enough time passed, I made the relationship public and started going to the gym. I could not believe how much I enjoyed it. I was being called a gym rat by my best friend and my husband.
But I was!
I was that person who wouldn't miss a class and if she did, would go at night, or on the day off to make up for it. I never quite made it to gym "outfit" wearing, but my Avon walk and college orientation Tshirts got a huge workout. My yoga pants went from black to blaahck. I even bought new sneakers every now and then because I was at a gym, doing gym stuff, by gyminny!
But then one morning...the cold stale wind of blah blew over me. It started with a glance around the gym seeing the same people for 4 years. Those who were always thin were still thin. Those who were apple shaped, remained apples. Those who were etched from weight lifting remained etched.
Though I knew I was stronger for all the working out, my body was the same. It stopped "bettering" and just was my body. I no longer fully cared. Being strong and fit have an important place in my life, no doubt....but my arm began to hurt from all the weight lifting. Then I began working part time. Most of my friends had left the gym. The people in the same spots in the classes remained in the same spots...the getting to class on time, nearly running lights...the stress of going going going.
I am going to move away from the gym soon.....
aw, for feck's sake. I am over you gym. OVER Y-O-U "exercise". I wondered how long it would take. I was honestly shocked after the 1st year that I was still there. Now, 4 years later I see that our relationship has run it's course. It is not you, it is me.
With this amazingly mild winter, I will return to my first and true love of mine. Walking. It has been my favorite thing to do since I was a child walking to the train station to get to school. It was my life in Manhattan. People see me walk to and from events in Leominster- once upon a time with a stroller, mad strapped with a baby in the side holster. I love it.
I can always dust off the weight bench upstairs, too. I love my strength. Push ups are perfect. Keep some exorcisms going in my life to clear the head. Mainly, I just want to move. I don't want to name it. I don't want to make it a thing that becomes a THING. I am tired of THINGS.
We promised the kids more bike riding when we move (to a house NOT on a hill that empties onto one of the busiest roads) and maybe (laughing here....) I will buy a bike for me. To get out with them. That sounds kind of nice...