to the core

my core is killing me.

i didn't even know i had a core until i started using a new machine at the gym this week. and now, it's killing me. sneezing is painful - laughing, bloody excruciating. sheesh. this is good, right?

i started going to the gym about 2 months ago after a very, very long absence. my day now begins at 4:30 am with feeding and walking the dogs, having my coffee, eating breakfast, tending my virtual crops on facebook, walking the dogs yet again. then, i'm off. daylight breaks before 6 as i drive into the mountains.

naturally, i have a soundtrack for my morning. elliptical = pixies, xtc, pretenders, erasure, elvis costello; bench press = billie holiday; machines = english beat and more elvis. i've stopped counting reps and now count beats. i find it helps me forget the torture at hand. i tend to dance on the elliptical machine, a practice that may one day result in tragedy.

after my workout, i get ready for work. i have a very particular preference for the shower stall i want to use and have nearly come to blows over it with the elderly ladies who frequent the pool. i mean, this is serious business. i have forgotten all manner of crucial start-of-the-day items since i began this little venture - some more than once. so far, i've forgotten shampoo, panties, shoes, a blouse and, worst of all, my towel. i never realize any of it until i'm already in the shower.

interestingly, i find that i love it. every single bit of it.

the room is set up with machines unfortunately placed directly before large mirrors. what i find is that i am watching myself emerge in a very literal way. it's both fascinating and gratifying. well, once i got over the horror of the mirrors, of course. i now have about 10 items of clothing that fit me properly. i still wear a couple of pairs of pants that definitely do not, that i can remove without undoing anything. i've assembled a series of uniforms which i wear all the time because i'm not done yet. nope, no way, not yet.

i'm on a journey measured in miles on a machine, in beats counted, in the number of times i forget my drawers, in the steady return to my stronger self. the extreme pain laughing causes me today is, at the core, quite a happy thing.