Today, I pushed myself at the gym.
Not that I normally go to the gym to relax. There’s generally some exertion, some sweat, some heavy breathing (mind meet gutter…I know how this sounds). I try to make that 30 to 45 minute window count for something, otherwise, there’s no point in going.
Once in awhile, though, I’ll push a little harder than usual. I know trainers push hard, and I know you’re supposed to push yourself to see results, but for me, I have to ease into these things and make an effort not to get depressed over my limitations.
What made today different was that I went into the gym angry. Really angry, angry at individuals and situations, and I knew I was going to use the anger to get me through the workout. I hadn’t realized how intense it would be, nor did I realize that maybe upping the level on the machine wasn’t a great idea when prepping for an angry workout.
Not only was my resistance higher, but I didn’t compensate for it in speed by slowing down. If anything, I went faster than I normally do. I knew about halfway through that I’d pushed it, but I kept going. Exercise has become sort of a therapy for me. Some TMI FYI, I was on anti-depressants for several years, but due to some long term effects, I had to go off them and needed something else to keep me “even” (a fact I need to keep in mind when I start to get lazy and skip the gym for several days in a row).
I came out of the gym feeling less angry but pretty sore, even to the point where I thought I’d pulled something. A shower and an Aleve helped, but tomorrow could be pretty painful. Then again, it could also be a “not big deal,” and that would be nice.
I like being sore to an extent. I like feeling like I did something to earn that soreness. Getting it through exercise is definitely better than getting a headache or a toothache or a sore toe because I stubbed it on the edge of the table or something.
Still, it would be nice to walk tomorrow, so here’s to hoping I didn’t overdo it too much.
A.
The Romance Factor 