When my parents got divorced, my dad mentioned that he would go to TWO aerobics classes a day and do everything in double time. I love my dad but sometimes he isn't very coordinated. Single time might be a stretch....I can only imagine two hours a day of double-time aerobics in tube socks and bad 1980's shorts.
But I get it.
Physical activity is one of the only things that makes me feel good....really good, like someday I might be somewhat whole good.
You would think I would do it more often.
But I don't.
So today, I was contemplating attending a 5:30 class at they gym OR watching Seinfeld reruns and having a glass of wine.
Surprisingly, I found myself at the gym.....go me!
I went to a Body Combat class which combines kickboxing, karate and boxing. I laughed at the thought of this class. I have never gone; I'm not a fighter I'm a lover....but I needed a good cardio workout to clear my head.
Holy Schmoly. I was doing front kicks, side kicks, back kicks....the whole time I thought about kicking grief's hiney.....take that you self-involved emotion, hiya!- you partner to depression, loneliness and isolation....that's right, right in the kisser.....bastard.
I got so focused I almost started to cry which was problematic because kickboxing kicks your entire body and your can't breathe. Crying and not breathing is a bad thing.
But wow I felt good. Like 007 secret agent good.
But don't critique my punches. Despite giving Grief a good whooping with my kicks, I still punch like a girl. My girlie punches make me laugh they are so girlie.
The instructor came over to work on my arms.
"Focus on everything coming from your middle; from your center. All of your power is generated in your center," She said as she tried to correct my oh-so-ladylike arms.
My center, my core, my power....Why yes, everything, everything is coming right from there.
I looked at my focused reflection in the mirror; her determination, her sadness, her eyes glossy from tears and sweat and I gave my grief a stellar left hook.