Hi Again,
It's me, Alex. So goes this "27 Things I Want To Do Before I Turn 27" series, parte dos. Yesterday, I painted my nails. Today, I went to the gym. Oh, the irony! I wrote that I wanted to work out for 4 consecutive days,. Well, to be perfectly honest, I went to the gym on Friday, too - so, "technically," I'm actually one day ahead on this "27 things" list.
For the past 18 months (1.5 years), I focused my effort on obtaining my Masters Degree and less on working out. Granted, I still maintained a routine of exercising 4-5 days a week by walking and running around my neighborhood. However, I was so incredibly stressed with trying to balance the full-time work as a teacher along with the full-time work of being a Graduate Student, that I often found myself getting very sick. My immune system was on overload and I wasn't allowing my body (nor listening to it, for that matter), time to rest, to recover, and to rebuild.
Life is kind of like that. It has a funny way of showing me that I always need to embrace that process of resting, of recovering, and ultimately, of rebuilding. God shares in his Word that a man who builds his house on rock has more support than the man who builds his house on sand. It lasts longer and the foundation on which the house on rock is built, is very different than the one on sand. Sandcastles don't last very long when they're near the water :)
As I look back on my life, specifically - my early to mid-twenties, I've realized that there have been instances where I have built my house on sand. I've been "that girl," trying to maintain balance and control, running around my neighborhood, without any "notion" of where I wanted to ultimately end up. Life requires so much more than aimless running, up and down hills, across all kinds of terrain. Life requires that kind of determination that I know is inside of me. It is that kind of perseverance that I need to reach down and pull out from my innermost being, to awaken it again. It is the kind that I used to have about a year and a half ago - when I was at the gym 6-7 days a week for an hour or more. I stretched and I pulled. I did dead bugs and lifted weights and worked on my favorite machine, the AMT.
Reigniting this passion for exercise and health once again, is like riding a bike. Now that I am finished with Graduate School, this task combines a mixture of emotional ingredients for me. I feel excited and joyful, while at the same time, knowing it takes a self-determination and constant dedication to succeed at building a routine. One of my high school teachers once told me that it takes "six weeks to build a habit."
It also requires that I know my body well - and, after multiple times of losing my voice and searching for it, like a man who has lost his best pearl - I understand now what it means to "know" my body well. I know its limits and how far I can push them.
A great artist is one that knows when it is time to stop painting. I now know that I require time to stop, to pause, to rest, and to reflect on a daily basis. Furthermore, we all need a day in our week to "rest" and to cease from working. My difficulty in the past resided in the reality that I did not listen, nor follow my advice and that is what caused me to miss out on truly resting.
Along with resting, is recovering. Science has proven that when we sleep and when we "take a necessary break" from any sort of work (like the gym), our bodies recover. This means that they work to repair, to rest, and to provide us with the nutrients that we need to collect our thoughts and to focus on the present moment. Here's another honest moment for you: sometimes, I am so caught up with living in the day, that I forget and/or cease to live in the moment and enjoy "that moment" for all that it is.
Resting from the gym, especially after I have established a routine once again, is challenging for me. As mentioned in my post from yesterday, I work, A LOT. It's hard to pull back, reflect, refocus, and not have structure. Planning and mapping out my days/weeks are a part of my life and taking a step (well, sometimes many steps backwards) to reassess the bigger picture forces me to submit and to say "I can't do it on my own and I need help."
Here's another way of looking at recovering. I have worn glasses since I was in first grade. So, I have been wearing them for over 20 years. Wow, time certainly does fly. Every night, I allow my eyes a chance to recover when I take off my glasses to sleep. I give my eyes a chance to rest from providing a necessary resource for me, that is, the ability to see, albeit with help. As such, when I work out, I need to be sensitive to my body, know when to push myself, and know when to hold back. That kind of sensitivity and understanding, comes with time, and we are always working towards knowing it better.
In a way, exercising and resting my eyes is kind of like doing a waltz. In college, I was part of a ballroom dance club for one semester. Waltzing with a guy requires that you know him, and his movements. You are in step with him, following his lead, across a solid oak floor. At times, it feels like you two are the only ones out there, under a sea of spot lights, capturing the moment of two people moving with their bodies, conveying a message of hope, joy, and love, however cliché that all may sound.
With rest and recovery comes one more facet, that is, the brick of rebuilding. Rebuilding suggests that something had to be broken or devastated before in order for it to be remade. In college, I traveled with a group of my friends from the northeast to New Orleans, Louisiana for two spring breaks to help rebuild homes from Hurricane Katrina. My first year that I went on the trip, I got really sick. Again, I was still learning about the process of listening to my body. I lost my voice and learned how to rebuild houses with a whisper. But, during that time, I also learned how to listen to the people who inhabited the homes that Hurricane Katrina took away. In the Lower Ninth Ward, the devastation was mind blowing. Homes were completely turned over and memories were lost, just like a set of stairs that led to nowhere, in an empty field, with memories strewn out of a vacant house, just across the way.
It was in the south, that I learned about the process of rebuilding. My heart was transformed when I listened to the locals songs and stories of the hurricane. I was amazed that many continued to stay and rebuild not only their homes, but their lives as well. Yes, old material possessions were gone, but new memories were being put on the mantle and hung up on newly painted walls.
Recently, I've learned that material things are often attached to memories. It's hard to say "no" to material things that have brought so much joy over the years, especially when there is a strong memory or a group of memories attached to them. It is so easy for someone to say "at least you have a home or an apartment," or "you can always rebuild," typical responses following a catastrophe or life-altering event. Yes, I can rebuild the home and buy new things, but it's the memories associated with what was there that cannot be replaced, repurchased, or reframed. In times like these, coping with a loss has taught me to always, always preserve the memories in order to keep them alive.
As such, when I go to the gym, I tend to keep to myself. I have made friends within my small fitness community, and for that, I am grateful. I've learned to be more independent and to throw the timidity over my shoulder like a sweat rag when I go to lift weights with a bunch of guys that are much taller and muscular than my 5 foot, petite Italian frame. I've learned to become a woman that knows what she wants and will march right in to get the 15 pound weight. With that, I've also learned how to take a step back and to dead life, waiting until the time is right to pursue a beautiful endeavor that is crafted into a colorful mosaic of stretch bands and slam balls.
Cheers!
-alex
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