exercising my demons

woke up to a rainy wednesday = perfect excuse to stay in bed. but didn't. i knew i had some demons that needed exercising, or rather exorcising. so, i went to the gym and joined the over 65 crowd as they warmed up on the treadmills for their "silver sneakers" class to follow at 9:30am. i love them. there's one lady that hasn't changed her hairstyle since the 1940s. seriously. raven black hair with a little red bow perched on top the poof in back. she works out without mussing her hair in the slightest - my heroine and, at the same time, my antithesis. the folks at the gym are lucky if i manage to brush my hair and wipe the drool from my cheek before dragging myself there.

i always feel like a little bit of an asshole working out on a treadmill or stairmaster or stationary bike, don't you? i mean, any object that replicates movement for the body without actually getting you anywhere is a little dumb. aliens, i must imagine, look down upon us and remark, "well, there's life down there, but so much for intelligent."

i don't care though. somethin's better than nuthin. i'm too realistic to know that i won't go running the the rain. i'd stay home and feed my demons with coffee, irrationally scream at my sloooooooooooow computer, and wonder WHY I AM SO STRESSED OUT!!!????

so, to the gym, i went.

whew.

god, what a little sweating does to get me OUT OF MY HEAD and INTO MY BODY. grounds me. forces me to inhabit my arms, my legs, my toes, my back, the parts i love (my shoulders), and the parts i hate (my belly.) the purpose of my sturdy thigh is not to be thin, but to move. this body carries me on my journey like a sturdy samsonite suitcase. it's a bit banged up, but it's still in good shape and it gets me where i dream/need/want to go. going to the gym, running, yoga, dancing around my apartment is, in my corny little mind, like doin' the laundry after a long trip - unmentionables 'n' all.