Penance

"Pain is weakness leaving the body."

I'd like to say my husband grabbed that from some piece of literature or something, but I really can't be sure.  It could have just as likely been a concoction of high school philosophy and imaginary sci-fi dialog. Still, at the moment, I'd like to think it's true.

For the last few days I've been working out.  Now, often I do work out to some extent, but not with any kind of discipline or with a specific goal in mind.  The last time I worked out with a goal in mind was before my wedding, and honestly, the last month or so leading up to the thing I slacked off.  No, this time is different.  My fitness goals and state are being shown for what they really are.  I have a specialized journal for it, I have a new book of crazy workouts which have made all my muscles sore except my abs (so far). I measured my biceps and my thighs, my waist and everything.  In a perfect world I would have even gotten my cholesterol info and plugged it in, but seeing as we're having trouble paying basic bills, I think going to a doctor just to have my blood plaque content checked isn't really in the cards.

So instead, I make do with my crappy LCD screen scale that can't handle displaying the correct numbers until you're off it, and a piece of 550 cord placed up against a measuring tape.  Yes, we're super high tech over here! 

But still, the workout thing is working.  My muscles are sore and I can already see them taking shape under the stored energy deposits. When I was walking yesterday around Lake Chabot it came to me - this soreness isn't weakness leaving the body.  It's a detoxification.  A purge.  Not in the traditional sense - no.  It's a purge of weakness, of atrophy, and sloth.  It's a penance for sins committed against my body, or a punishment. Pictures of monks beating themselves and mutilating themselves flashed through my mind.  This isn't that extreme, at least, not where I am concerned.  I'm not going to be on the cover of Muscle and Fitness any time soon, muscles on top of muscles, veins popping out, mouth open in a bellow like Hollywood's silver screen version of Mr. Hyde. No.  That would be disgusting.  My goal is just to be above average on the fitness scale.  I'll pay my penance, it will be done in a month or so.  By that time, perhaps like the monks I will learn to like it.  Relish in the pain of my muscle weakness fleeing.  Maybe I too will experience some altered state of consciousness as I'm increasing reps or lifting higher weight.  That would be an added bonus, but I'll settle for weakness leaving my body and a less fatty middle.