Why I Love My Workouts...

...and Why You Should, Too.

My mom and I went for walks most of my childhood. I danced in musicals. So, I've been active since I was young. But it wasn't until college that I came to enjoy my workouts.

I discovered running. And weight lifting. In another life, I was a rock climber, rappeller, boulderer, and even a day hiker. Now, I'll be the first to admit there was a backlash after that stage of my life ended. But eventually, I learned step aerobics could be fun. I rediscovered running. Over the past several years, I've become enamored with old-school calisthenics, too.

These days, my workout is as much about re-centering my world, and meditation, as it is health and a strong cardiovascular system. I can sweat out my frustrations. I can burn off my disgust. It's hard to hold onto anger when you can hardly hold onto your light weights.

So I don't come here and rage about

• People who think that the only way to support someone or something is to support it blindly
• People who put something out publicly on Facebook, Tumblr, or a blog and then snark that an opinion about it is "unsolicited"
• People who will call out any and all kinds of privilege ~ except the one that they themselves carry, at which point the Bingo card comes out
• People who claim to be feminists, but still call women stupid bitches, heifers, fat cow, and dumb cunts when a woman disagrees with them
• People who claim to be white allies but then get defensive when a person of color points out a mistake the so-called ally has made, because, after all, they're a "good white person"
• People who swing wildly from one extreme to another, but continue to expect respect, patience, and support
• People who claim to be white allies, but then don't get the difference ~ or the necessity of ~ "black lives matter" v. "all lives matter"
• People who think that offering an apology automatically means they deserve forgiveness
• People who think that being giving forgiveness automatically means you're friends again

Instead, I pick up my weights, I put on my music, and I go to work. I breathe. I burn. I sweat. I pant. I lift and run and punch and push and squat until I have found my center again. Until I have gotten over myself. 

Remembered that not a one of us is perfect ~ in spite of how some people may set themselves up. Remember that how a person presents themselves is their business, and how I present myself is the only thing that is my business. Remembered that I am not perfect, either, and am actually pretty screwed if that becomes the standard. Remembered that, in the grand scheme of things, none of it matters. Remembered that there are no more lessons to be taught, and we all must learn in our own time, in our own ways.

And yes, I post then. But I post. I don't rage. Sometimes, anyway.

For those times it works ~ you're welcome.





Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.