footprints in the sand exercise

I made my triumphant return to the gym this week and last. A return that was long coming due to the complaints of short daylight hours, long work hours and more than enough things to keep me hopping. And I could tell it was time. My wobbly bits were doing that extra bit of jiggle thing. It was time.

And me, I’m all about the muscle tone. I’m one of those people who prefers their body with muscle and a certain firmness to it. I know, stop laughing, that stomach of mine refuses to do its bit but that’s what its like. Thank goodness my arms, legs and shoulders play the game or it would be a futile effort. Let’s not even talk about my butt and its refusal to be anything but flat. Anywaaaay.

You can’t go past the feeling of strength that comes from stretching your muscles and building them. Nothing keeps me as sane as sweating, huffing and puffing. The fog and heaviness that sometimes gathers in my brain dissipates when I take the time to do even the shortest workout.

But anyway, my triumphant return, you’re still waiting to hear about that, aren’t you? No one really cares if I prefer my body hard over soft {in places} or if I go nuts without exercise. It’s all things you’ve heard before. My return was impressive. I leg pressed and I chest pressed and I lifted and squatted and all that jazz. I even did a program on the bike.

I was triumphant. Smug even. You’ve still got it old girl, I thought. And I went home, singing loudly and badly along with the radio as I went. My day was made. I’d missed the time in the gym. The time with my sister. The time to just watch my body do one more amazing thing.

Then I woke up the next morning. Immediately I was stiff and a little bit sore. Oh hello, I thought, I know you. Exercise, growth, building. Good job me. I went about my Saturday as my Saturdays go. Then by mid-afternoon I had a more than noticeable stiffness in my thighs. The type that can cause you to let out a little yelp as you sit if you’re not careful.

So I snapchatted my sister. I’ve overcommitted, I said, Ouuuuch.

She laughed at me. As she does. She told me she thought I’d gone a little nuts when I increased the load on the leg press machine. She said, oh well, back on to it. I nodded and agreed and told her I’d see her the next day for gardening at my place. I went back to suffering silently. Sort of silently.

My triumphant return was now just a return. A small amount of the triumph had been wiped off it. But that’s all part of the process my friends. Especially if you let the time between visits stretch out a little. It’s the way it goes but you never really lose that moment when all you can think to yourself is ‘Crushed It’.

Take some advice from me and from this story today and get that body of yours moving. Not because you want the same things from your body as I do from mine. Or even the same things they tell you to want in the magazines. But because that moment of triumph is worth it. It builds your self-worth. Accomplishing anything does.

Make your triumphant return/start/whatever today. I dare you.