… she's not coming down 'til it all makes sense again…


Gym member: Week 7: State of the Union Address

Here’s what I really want to say about the gym, at this point (views subject to change, apparently…):
1) I’m happy when I walk in the place. I love the energy, it just feels good to be there. I dreaded the place when I started! It was my own internal struggle, and had very little to do with the gym itself. I didn’t know what I was doing there, and I didn’t believe it was of any value. That’s all changed.
2) There are many derogatory comments about Planet Fitness being a silly, purple little planet, because the patrons are out of shape (ummm… isn’t that what the gym is for?), because they discourage meat-headed behavior like snorting, yelling, spitting, gallon water jug chugging, and weight thunking, and because they have tootsie rolls at the desk (I asked the trainer, Matt, about it, and he said the candy is mostly for diabetics! Makes sense to me! Except I’m not diabetic, and I gotta have 3 tootsie rolls every time I walk past…) I like it there. All kinds are welcome. I’ve seen some amazingly fit people. Pros. And I’ve seen (and BEEN) the other end of the spectrum. My favorite so far was the little 90 yr old Grandpa, dressed in his work pants with button down shirt, leather belt, and dress shoes. He wandered from machine to machine, doing 1 set of 3 reps on each.. My second fave is the guy my dad’s age, who comes in dressed head to toe in faded camo sweats, he looks like half the guys in my family. My third fave is the church lady who worked out in 3-piece linen suit, with giant floofy wig perched on top of her head. The more she worked out, the more the wig sloshed to the side… No wait, she’s my favorite.
3) I’ve worked out pretty steady at 90-120 minutes, 4-5 days/week, for 7 weeks (except I lost a week when I had my annual sinus-headachey-head-cold. I alternate muscle groups, and I do 45-60 minutes of cardio. I haven’t dropped one single pound, not ONE! I am becoming convinced that God doesn’t want me to lose weight. Yes, God is one of my work-out partners. It’s okay, I’m at a decent weight. That being said, at 50 yrs old, I’m still a crazy body-dysmorphic American girl at heart, and crazy girls always have a magic number in their crazy head… I’m still trying to lose weight, I gotta be honest, God. And I could use some help with the sugar addiction…
4) Sometimes, when I’m in the zone, I’m goin’ at the cardio, and I’m watching some silly nonsense show on A&E, and I can look over and see my daughter peddling her favorite bike… I’m just so grateful to have the time and the means to be able to do this with her. It’s been good for us both. Most days we laugh our whole way there and back… which is priceless.
5) I wish I’d known how good it felt to do this a long time ago. I’ve never been physically active, not with regular, planned exercise, with actual challenges and goals in mind. I thought all that was for other people. People with discipline. Health nuts. People who have something special inside, some sorta drive I didn’t come equipped with. Guess what, the only thing those people had that I didn’t was the self-confidence to TRY IT to begin with… I wish I’d known, I wish someone could have conveyed this to me, how good it feels to see yourself progress, get better, get faster, get stronger… I may not see a change in weight, but there are other measures. My muscles are tighter. Less wobble. My lungs and heart are expanding. I can walk the little horse up and out of the hollow, climbing some steep hills, without getting winded! My spine feels lengthened, from stretching, and from carrying myself differently, more balanced…
6) I fully realize I’m still on the Pink Cloud… I love it up here.. it’s fluffy and nice and fun and light!


Character arc

I learned about “character arc” back in 10th grade, when my English teacher, Mr Beck, delivered a REVOLTING, scathing review of my favorite, the most holy, most exhalted movie I’d ever seen in my young life up to that point, and frankly, I’m shocked my mom let me see that filthy thing, now when I try to watch it again, but at the time, who knows, she had a temporary lapse in whatever… my sheltered little childhood.. but Mr. Beck didst disparage heartily the movie “Saturday Night Fever” when he opined that he hated it, loooooathed it, because the protagonist, Tony Manero, never developed as a character, never had that arc, never learned anything, was the same at the end of the movie as at the beginning. Oh, the outrage I felt well up from my very soul!! And I never stopped to think about was he right, was he wrong. Did the character have an arc? I didn’t care! Tony Manero had a white suit, and the coolest moves EVER. But as much as I’d love to have been able to UNHEAR Mr. Beck’s words, there they stayed, and so did so many more of his words and his phrases and his lessons and his very image, pear-shaped physique, rumpled 3-piece suit, beady eyes behind horn-rimmed, coke-bottle glasses, shiny balding pate, burned to my psyche forever… Whether I wanted to or not, I sure learned to look for character arc.

well I think I’ve been needing confirmation of the fact that I have changed and grown in the past few years, I needed to know that it was working, that it’s all been worth it, that I was affecting some sort of “character arc”… but I got it tonight. Because tonight when my husband said and did something so… ridiculous and over-dramatic and wayyyyyyyass uncalled-for and stooopid… it was… I’m still shaking my head over it… but when he did it, I just took a deep breath and got up off my butt, and DIDN’T, I said I DIDN’T do that passive-aggressive stuff I used to do, ya’ll who know me, you may know what I mean, I can be a real pain in the ass, especially when I’m right… but I didn’t do that tonight. Instead, I got on my phone and called my husband BACK INTO THE DAMN HOUSE out of his stoopid car, and I figured, if he was man enough to walk back in the house after acting so friggin’ … WHATEVER… then I had to be man enough to just GET OVER IT. I fixed my stoopid over-reactive family some chicken dinner and I called ’em to the table and we ate it and we talked and we laughed and it’s over.

Sport out.