Thanks for All the Weights, Dad!
You know how it goes. There are the electric blues, where you're melancholy, and the sunny yellows, where you're cheerful, and the blacks, where you just want to die, and the mean reds, where you want to hit something.
Over the years I've developed all sorts of ways of dealing with some of the more unsavory shades of colors. Today, which began as a sunny yellow, took an unexpected and ugly turn towards the mean reds in the late afternoon. I guess I should have expected it: the rainbow has been wobbling for a couple of days because of all the emotional, mental, and spiritual strain associated with work right now. Yesterday, for instance, was a steady working green that sank suddenly into a dangerous degree of exhaustion (is that, what, purple?) just after class and then bounced back up to playful greeny-yellow and finally settled out at a sea-blue (as opposed to electric blue) on the drive home.
So, if you actually followed all that, it wasn't surprising for today's yellow to take a dip into red. What was hard was figuring out what to do about it, because many of the usual options were off-limits for one reason or another. I knew I needed to get out, so I went walking in the rain. Dad, seeing I was upset, asked to come with me.
We went up and down the street for awhile and talked and got soaked, which cooled me down some, and then Dad said, "Hey, we've already showered. How about hitting the gym?"
"Absolutely!" I replied. Dad and Mom and I joined a new gym together recently and we've been enjoying early-morning sessions. This morning we didn't get one, so I was more than ready to work out my frustrations on an elliptical and a bunch of weight machines.
Circuit training is something Dad knows all about because he was a wrestler in high school and college. And the weights section we use has about 12 machines, plus balance balls. It's a perfect recipe for getting rid of the mean reds: you basically press them out through the weights.
When Dad sets up the weights for you, you work for what you get. He's also got a competitive streak as broad and deep as mine. When I tossed off thirty reps on my lower back, Dad said, "Oh, c'mon, you can do more than that. Set it down to 200 lbs."
"Dad! Look how high it is already!"
"You're not working for it, baby."
"The weight of my whole body isn't enough to force this thing down! Look!"
"That's what the handles are for."
He then proceeded to show me, setting the weights as far down as they would go and zipping through his own reps like they were nothing.
"You are a show-off!" I told him, grinning.
He just grinned back.
By the time we'd worked our way through the six or eight upper body machines, I was feeling like a wimp. Dad is ridiculously strong in his biceps, deltoids, and triceps, and he was pressing easily twice or in some cases three times as much as me. The gap closed up a bit, though, on the lower body machines.
"Hah! 90! How far down did you go?"
"120."
"No fair! Girls are supposed to have better leg muscles than guys!"
It's great to work out when you're already wet, because really there isn't much more that can happen to you and it keeps the sweat down. I always find myself swaggering a bit, too, after a really good workout. It just makes you feel clean and strong and on top of the world.
According to Dad, the way you should feel is like you can't walk. ;-)
I wrapped up with a long stretch over a balance ball and then we sat in the jacuzzi for awhile (or rather, Dad did and I paddled my toes in the water), talking about this and that---which for us generally consists of discussions about academia at large and future Tapestry projects in specific, when it isn't metaphysics, imaginary science (don't ask), or politics---and wondering why the bubble jets were turned off.
When we got home we found that Charity had been making a yummy chicken soup and somebody had already gotten out the wines and it was all cozy. I mixed myself a weird drink (nota bene: smirnoff plus fresh grapefruit juice is bangarang!) in a jar and found that somehow the workout had brought the yellow back up dazzling bright.
"No more exercise for you!" Mom said. "You're getting silly!"
So thanks for all the weights, Dad, and for being strong enough to handle the mean reds. I'm so glad you press more than I do---in every area of life. :-)
Over the years I've developed all sorts of ways of dealing with some of the more unsavory shades of colors. Today, which began as a sunny yellow, took an unexpected and ugly turn towards the mean reds in the late afternoon. I guess I should have expected it: the rainbow has been wobbling for a couple of days because of all the emotional, mental, and spiritual strain associated with work right now. Yesterday, for instance, was a steady working green that sank suddenly into a dangerous degree of exhaustion (is that, what, purple?) just after class and then bounced back up to playful greeny-yellow and finally settled out at a sea-blue (as opposed to electric blue) on the drive home.
So, if you actually followed all that, it wasn't surprising for today's yellow to take a dip into red. What was hard was figuring out what to do about it, because many of the usual options were off-limits for one reason or another. I knew I needed to get out, so I went walking in the rain. Dad, seeing I was upset, asked to come with me.
We went up and down the street for awhile and talked and got soaked, which cooled me down some, and then Dad said, "Hey, we've already showered. How about hitting the gym?"
"Absolutely!" I replied. Dad and Mom and I joined a new gym together recently and we've been enjoying early-morning sessions. This morning we didn't get one, so I was more than ready to work out my frustrations on an elliptical and a bunch of weight machines.
Circuit training is something Dad knows all about because he was a wrestler in high school and college. And the weights section we use has about 12 machines, plus balance balls. It's a perfect recipe for getting rid of the mean reds: you basically press them out through the weights.
When Dad sets up the weights for you, you work for what you get. He's also got a competitive streak as broad and deep as mine. When I tossed off thirty reps on my lower back, Dad said, "Oh, c'mon, you can do more than that. Set it down to 200 lbs."
"Dad! Look how high it is already!"
"You're not working for it, baby."
"The weight of my whole body isn't enough to force this thing down! Look!"
"That's what the handles are for."
He then proceeded to show me, setting the weights as far down as they would go and zipping through his own reps like they were nothing.
"You are a show-off!" I told him, grinning.
He just grinned back.
By the time we'd worked our way through the six or eight upper body machines, I was feeling like a wimp. Dad is ridiculously strong in his biceps, deltoids, and triceps, and he was pressing easily twice or in some cases three times as much as me. The gap closed up a bit, though, on the lower body machines.
"Hah! 90! How far down did you go?"
"120."
"No fair! Girls are supposed to have better leg muscles than guys!"
It's great to work out when you're already wet, because really there isn't much more that can happen to you and it keeps the sweat down. I always find myself swaggering a bit, too, after a really good workout. It just makes you feel clean and strong and on top of the world.
According to Dad, the way you should feel is like you can't walk. ;-)
I wrapped up with a long stretch over a balance ball and then we sat in the jacuzzi for awhile (or rather, Dad did and I paddled my toes in the water), talking about this and that---which for us generally consists of discussions about academia at large and future Tapestry projects in specific, when it isn't metaphysics, imaginary science (don't ask), or politics---and wondering why the bubble jets were turned off.
When we got home we found that Charity had been making a yummy chicken soup and somebody had already gotten out the wines and it was all cozy. I mixed myself a weird drink (nota bene: smirnoff plus fresh grapefruit juice is bangarang!) in a jar and found that somehow the workout had brought the yellow back up dazzling bright.
"No more exercise for you!" Mom said. "You're getting silly!"
So thanks for all the weights, Dad, and for being strong enough to handle the mean reds. I'm so glad you press more than I do---in every area of life. :-)
posted by Praelucor at 8:43 PM
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