A Step Back

I almost didn't go to the gym tonight!

I did, but it was hairy there for a minute. After work today, there was a long, sweet drool nap in one of the comfy chairs by the fire at Starbuck's. Listening to Russian Sacred music, reading James Hillman's The Soul Code. By the time I managed to finish a section (all of four pages), it was six fifteen. And as I'm heading to my car... well, that's another post.

Anyway, it was almost seven p.m. before I got going to the gym. Egads. And I thought... all those thoughts...

...You won't be able to go Saturday or Sunday, so might as well make it three days instead of just two.
...It's already pretty late. You'd better get home.
...Like one day is gonna make a difference?
...With your intestinal troubles, you won't be accomplishing anything anyway.

But, luckily, this image flashed in my mind. Me doing my wacko stretching routine.

People at my gym avoid eye contact after they've seen me at it. I, of course, love that. It's pretty out there. But I just love it. It's all these moves--some of which I remember from Yoga, some of which I picked up over the years from trainers or seeing someone else do it--and then there's the really out there ones that I plain invented.

But that was enough. Off I went.

And stretching was great. Barring illness or injury, I want to be able to do this stretching for my whole life. It just feels so good. And, if I keep it up, I will be able to do it for my whole life, as it will keep me limber.

Tonight was shoulders and triceps. I love working my back. As a whipsman, I appreciate a well muscled back. When you're confronted with protruding shoulder blades, or a vast pillowy expanse... what do you do with that? What do you aim for? But that wonderful topography of a muscled back. That is so sweet.

And biceps. My biceps workout rocked tonight. I start out with doing the speed rack. That's a routine where you start with heavy dumbells and do a quick set of ten, then, without pausing, drop the weight by five pounds, and do another set of ten, no pause, less weight, another set of ten. Eventually, there you are, struggling and straining to do bicep curls with a pair of twenty pould dumbells that feel like they might as well weigh 120 pounds. Usually, my starting off point is thirty pounds. But tonight, I started at forty. And the first set felt pretty good. But next up was thirty-five. And that's heavy. And then the thirties. And they're heavy. By the time I got down to the manageable twenty-fives, I was shot. It was a struggle.

And then came the twenties. I have never, ever worked so hard to squeeze out a set of ten bicep curls with twenty pound dumbells as I did tonight. Two more routines with biceps, and then I hit the showers.

In the locker room, I peeled off my shirt, and I was pretty awed by what I beheld in the mirror. Yowza! I may only weigh 187.2 pounds, but it's a gooood 187.2 pounds.

I will never be big. I will never overhear Chelsea boys on Eighth Avenue say "Damn! Look at the guns on him!" as I pass by.

But I do alright.

It's all about the journey, not the destination.

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