This was me at 6 o’clock this morning. The sprinklers were shooting across the backyard in their own kind of music: shhhh-tut-tut-tut-tut. It’s soothing, that sound, so I turned my volume up a little louder. Iggy Pop does it again. The porch windows were open, but where I stood was dry and safe from water spray. My towel was spread on the floor ready for crunches. My shoes were tied. And a cup full of Popsicle sticks awaited. I did jumping jacks, wall sits, mountain climbers a minute at a time. I poured sweat and did pushups, another round of jumping jacks, squats, tricep dips. Muscles quivered with each motion, but I kept going, moving sticks, setting the timer, working through, doing it again.
The yard in front of me was green and damp. I tried to appreciate the morning, the birds, the grass, and blue skies. I thought forward to feeling healthy and looking good. I tried to appreciate the free time, the strength in my body, the moment just for me. I really tried. But on my back, knees bent and arms behind my head for crunches, I looked under the table, just for a second, before I pressed “Start”on the timer. Just a second’s glance, but I saw the palmetto bug, curled on his back, legs in the air, dead. And that, I thought, is about how I feel.
I made it through my workout this morning by sheer persistence, simply because I told myself that I had to. (And some because you hold me accountable.) I know that every morning can’t be simple or fun even, but Oh My!, mornings like this make me long for my bed. Shoot. Morning like this make me even long for a straight-back kitchen chair. And now that I’ve showered and have distance from my workout and that palmetto bug I’m trying to appreciate the work my body did and keep the bigger picture in mind. But I can’t help but thinking that I wouldn’t have to deal with palmetto bugs at the gym.
(And why did no one tell me I look a little like a sweaty tomato post workout?)
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