Reflections…

I was at the Y this morning, treading away on the treadmill.  I’ve been there 3 times this week.  Which is stellar for me, considering I haven’t been once since October 2006.

I hunker down in the old-peoples’ room – you know, the one where there’s no loud music, but just quiet conversation about Bridge games and cataract surgeries.  I find great comfort in that room.  Perhaps because it’s not a meat market; perhaps because of its quiet vibe; perhaps because the people in that room are there not to look good, but to strengthen their bodies.

That, after all, is why I’m there.  I don’t particularly need to look better.  Sure, I could tone up a bit, but I really can’t be bothered with those details.  What I do need is to get my body back.

From 2004-2008 I was a full-on baby producing machine: from pregnancy, to birth, to nursing for 18 months, straight into the second pregnancy, birth, and nursing for another 18 months.  Not to mention the physically-torturous sleep deprivation of that entire span of time.  My body took a major hit (not to mention my spirit – but that’s an entry for another day).  I’ve spent the last year just getting my breath back.  And now, finally, it’s time to get my strength back.

So yes, I’m back at the Y.  And it feels marvelous – because I’m there for me.  Not for my body and how it looks.  Not because I should be exercising.  But because it feels incredible to be moving and stretching and stepping into a new place.