A thought, that has arrived as suddenly as there seem to be buds and sprouts on the ends of the limbs outside, lodged as I typed the wrong decade in a date: will I still be doing this in that wrong decade?
Just as I thought a decade ago?
Funny thing is, I returned to a self-designed workout I used to do alone in the group fitness room at the old gym, when it was Ballys, in a steady and clean-ish place that preceded the steep decline when LA Fitness took over, with all decisions about things like cleanliness, staffing, and classes "going through Corporate." Yes, I returned to this workout that I do on top of a BOSU, bouncing and struggling to stay steady and manipulate some weights.
But, my god, was there relief in putting my body through moves it remembers from 13-14 years ago! We can do this, it said, we can do it, captain!
I can helm my little BOSU boat, doing rows (sorry) and squats, released from what's become a ponderous and trying prison of screechy YouTube videos. Those appealed at first, and felt like being part of a class. But I was half with them, half inside myself.
On my BOSU, I'm all there, in the moment.
This all has nothing to do with Michael Franks, except that maybe he will be all I can tolerate when I am working at the computer in the ...thirties.
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