It is all too easy to forget the flashdance brilliance of endorphins coursing through spent muscles.
What with wedding planning, preggo preparations and all-around fatigue, difficulties replacing rock-climbing in my routine and countless excuses both social and attitudinal, I haven't really done much physical activity besides yoga since March 2004. If you count the loss of the baby, the ensuing healing time, and then the back injury -- all of which prevented even yoga, I've been a lazy lazy cow for a long long time.
Yesterday, in a fit of determination (they happen occasionally) I marched across the street and signed up at the new gym that is officially ten minutes uphill quick march closer than the Y I was with before.
Yesterday they weighed, measured, poked, prodded, and bankrupted me -- today they took me through my new high-intensity routine.
I nearly floated back across the street after my workout, half-stumbling on jellied but euphoric legs.
I spent the afternoon in a strange ecstatic haze, floating six inches above myself and incapable of sharpness of any sort -- in wit or movement.
Despite the momentary loss of productivity, I feel good. I knew I would and I've known it since March -- but gods do I know it now.
*contended sigh*
Yup. I'm the uncontested queen of eking out that silver lining. Grand poobah, even. Floating across the street came unbidden the thought that we're fortunate to have an extra month if not more before the next pregnancy. I didn't have time to start an exercise program in hectic december, and so I'm making the most of the extra time now. I've been taking folic acid for nigh-on a year now, but the physical fitness angle was a sore spot with my last pregnancy. Consequently, I am doing everything in my power to make the next one easier.
The only trick now, is to be very careful with my still-tender back. Hopefully the activity will strengthen it quicker so I can get back to my morning sun salutations.