My friend Sue and I have matching hot pink toe nails.
We noticed this as we readied ourselves for karateaqautics, the latest "workout" added to my growing complement of fitness tools.
My tool box is full of them (tools, not pink toe nails, just to be clear) - access to an elliptical trainer, treadmill, and weights, a personal trainer on standby, boxing with fellow WindWarriors. There are water workouts, land workouts - heck, I'm even working out in my sleep, which might explain why I feel drained when I wake up.
This obsession is nothing new.
Like most people, I have a love/hate relationship with fitness, or rather the "quest" for fitness. Guilt kicks in about January (though, it's been known to start in December or remain silent until April) and I enter what my friends call "the zone." This period - usually defined by a string of increasingly challenging workout regimes - lasts until I burn out.
I don't have a "slow" or "medium" switch - when it comes to fitness, I'm either on or off.
Right now, I'm on.
Today, I'm relishing in the beauty of aches that demonstrate I've worked muscles who've been on vacation far too long. I'm loving the fact that the simple act of walking creates a tightness in my thighs and that my derriere is resisting my resolve to take the stairs. Sure, my body feels as though I went a few rounds with Rocky (not you, Rocky...the other Rocky), but it will all be worth it.
Until it stops being worth it.
I've become familiar with the cycle. I push and push until I see the results of such hard work, and during this phase I vow to never let myself "go" again. And then suddenly, it's as though I can't push any more, and instead of slowing down, I simply stop.
Not this year.
This year, I'll search long and hard for my "medium" switch - beginning, of course, at my shockingly hot pink toenails. (Incidentally, it wasn't there...)
The Book In My Bag Today: The Gargoyle, Andrew Davidson