Something In The Air

I think they pump something into the air at the kickboxing gym.

In spite of the fact that I was so sore today that I could barely blink, by the time I got home from work I was jonesing for more time on the mats.

Generally, I am not the type of person who wants to go work out. I go to yoga because it's good for me, and it helps me stay limber. I go walking because yoga's not exactly aerobic and, unless I'm on site, I spend most of my day sitting on my ass. Even when I was training for the Honolulu Marathon I didn't want to go running. I did it because intellectually I understood that one cannot run 26.2 miles unless one runs smaller increments at regular intervals, but I didn't wake up in the morning and go "Oooh, I simply have to go running!" 

Work was uncharacteristically mellow today and every time I had a few minutes, my mind wandered to yesterday's lesson; my feet itched to practice the footwork and my arms longed to strike. I wanted to be back in the gym.

Sadly I can't go sign my paperwork until tomorrow or Friday, so no gym for me today. Instead I dug out my jump rope, my yoga mat, and my shuffle as soon as I got home and hit my front walk. I jumped, I high-stepped and shadow boxed, and I did the dreaded push-ups and crunches. 45 minutes later, I collapsed on my front lawn sweaty but energized.

I looked up at the moon for awhile and watched a bat closing in on a moth. I felt my breathing return to normal. I willed my limbs to work long enough to let me stand up.  Once I finally managed to drag myself back into the house,  I was surprised to realize that it was 8:15 and I'd missed the first 15 minutes of Pushing Daisies.

This situation is getting serious.