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Jul. 16th, 2004 10:42 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rivkaI like going to the gym on my way to work.
It's a brisk 15-minute walk from my house to the gym. At 8am, the streets have not yet begun to bake and the midday haze of air pollution has not yet settled over the city. I exchange smiles and "good mornings" with the few people I pass on the street - a young man polishing the brass pillars that hold up a business's awning, an elderly priest stumping across Cathedral Street with his cane. By the time I get to the gym, my muscles are warmed up and loose - I can skip the usual ten minutes on the exercise bike.
Before-work exercisers mostly clear out by 8, and the daytime crowd (students and retirees) generally hasn't shown up yet. I like the privacy, the absence of chatter, the assurance of knowing that no one is watching me and secretly laughing at how little I can lift. The pop music they play through the sound system is easy for me to tune out, so my world shrinks to include just me and my exercises.
There's something soothing and meditative about lifting weights. I like the building strain followed by release, the warm glow of endorphins. I like narrowing my focus down to a particular set of muscle movements, concentrating only on perfecting my form, visualizing the proper muscles contracting and expanding. I like being aware of my body and how it moves. I like the sense of accomplishment that comes from filling in the little boxes on my exercise sheet: look what I've gotten done.
Right now I'm trying to fend off a mild depression via lifestyle adjustments: exercise, mindfulness, religious practice, rest, not ODing on sugar. This morning, it seems to be working.
It's a brisk 15-minute walk from my house to the gym. At 8am, the streets have not yet begun to bake and the midday haze of air pollution has not yet settled over the city. I exchange smiles and "good mornings" with the few people I pass on the street - a young man polishing the brass pillars that hold up a business's awning, an elderly priest stumping across Cathedral Street with his cane. By the time I get to the gym, my muscles are warmed up and loose - I can skip the usual ten minutes on the exercise bike.
Before-work exercisers mostly clear out by 8, and the daytime crowd (students and retirees) generally hasn't shown up yet. I like the privacy, the absence of chatter, the assurance of knowing that no one is watching me and secretly laughing at how little I can lift. The pop music they play through the sound system is easy for me to tune out, so my world shrinks to include just me and my exercises.
There's something soothing and meditative about lifting weights. I like the building strain followed by release, the warm glow of endorphins. I like narrowing my focus down to a particular set of muscle movements, concentrating only on perfecting my form, visualizing the proper muscles contracting and expanding. I like being aware of my body and how it moves. I like the sense of accomplishment that comes from filling in the little boxes on my exercise sheet: look what I've gotten done.
Right now I'm trying to fend off a mild depression via lifestyle adjustments: exercise, mindfulness, religious practice, rest, not ODing on sugar. This morning, it seems to be working.
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Date: 2004-07-16 08:03 am (UTC)-J