Wednesday, Mar. 31, 2004 | 10:04 p.m.
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I have a confession to make. I like to exercise. I like to move my body and I like to play sports. I like to dance. Most people who've known me as an adult probably don't know these things about me. Other than the occasional bouts of exercising, I probably seem to be a pretty sedentary person. You wouldn't know that I played baseball as a elementary school student, was very active in gymnastics until junior high, where I played volleyball, basketball and softball. And I liked it. I liked the cameraderie of rides to games, I liked the competition and I liked feeling my muscles work.
In junior high I started working out with a friend. We were quite inspired by Flashdance. We wanted to be Jennifer Beals, working at a construction site by day and dancing in a club at night. We worked out to Billy Idol, the Stray Cats and anything else that was interesting in those pre-corporate MTV days. If we weren't dancing, we were lifting weights in her garage, where her mom taught fitness classes. We read Shape and Muscle & Fitness magazines and they comprised our bible. Sometimes we dreamed of being body builders. I could reminisce about it at length. It was the last time I really remember being happy with my body.
I don't know why I stopped, exactly. When I think about it chronologically, it all came to a stop somewhere around 17. Two things happened in the year preceding my entry into the couch potato life. One, I was date raped in my sixteenth summer. Two, I started dating Jeff soon after. I don't know which of those two things is responsible. I'm leaning towards the first. So now, as part of my year of getting in touch with my body, I'm sifting through all these layers to find that piece of me that revels in the soreness. Why do I like it? I guess it has something to do with the feeling of a job well done. It's not unlike the way I feel after I've done the dishes. I have physical proof that I did a good thing.
I met with a personal trainer yesterday, fulfilling a promise I made myself when Jasmine died. I think I recorded it here. I promised myself that I would get my body in shape, that I would make the most of the health that I have in this body with fully functioning parts. Problem is, I forgot to consult with my muscles. Today they are SCREAMING at me about it. But it's a good screaming and I feel good about keeping this promise.
Recent Entries ...
Go Here - Tuesday, Aug. 29, 2006
Short, But Sad Good-bye - Sunday, Oct. 16, 2005
Jasmine's Story ... Our Story - Friday, Sept. 30, 2005
Ache - Thursday, Sept. 29, 2005
Twists & Turns - Tuesday, Sept. 27, 2005
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