When you do walking pushups, inchworms and bear-crawls across the length of a basketball court, you have two thoughts:
1. Why in the heck am I doing this?
Followed by.
2. I did it.
I’m just thankful I can’t see myself in the process. I would be slimmer because I would laugh my *ss off.
We had circle-time again at the end of the workout. Clark put us through the paces and I had trouble raising my leg high enough at one point. But I did it. I was drenched in sweat and tired. And I hurt. It was exactly what I wanted. Here’s why:
Today is Ash Wednesday, the beginning of Lent. In my religious tradition, you sacrifice for 40 days and give something up. But today is a day when you contemplate your mortality. Ashes to ashes; dust to dust.
Nearly 12 years ago, I faced my mortality head-on when I was diagnosed with malignant melanoma. Trust me, cancer will jar you out of any sense of being invulnerable. But it gave me an appreciation for mornings like this morning. Pain means I am alive. Health means I can be alive a little longer.
When I was crawling across the gym floor, I never felt more alive in my life.
Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust. Even if I have to look like a doofus crawling across a gym floor.