Travelled up the road and back again. You’re a pal and a confidant. Good god, I need to just stop. And I don’t even want to know how many of you recognize that song. What can I say. I have a photographic memory and yes, I used to watch that show. But I digress.
So this week, we’re supposed to write a thank you letter to an inanimate object. I’m sure a lot of folks would choose coffee. I’m odd in that I hate coffee. Everything coffee. Yes, even coffee crisp and if you don’t know what that is, because I’m not sure if you can buy it in the States, then no worries. But I’ll just say that they took perfectly good chocolate and made it taste like coffee.
There are a few things I could pick. Diet Coke. One of my two, true addictions. Well, three now because Steeped Tea at Tim Horton’s… yeah, baby. That’s my second calling. But when I think of what has helped me cope over the years—beside chocolate—there is one thing that stands out. Exercise. But not just any kind. Beachbody. Yes, the company. But specifically Shaun T and Tony Horton. Their products help fashion my moods. Bring me up when I’m done… (up when I’m down, lady…pretty lady…)
Whoa, okay, maybe I should be thanking whatever drug I obviously need to go on. Anyway, Not sure I know what I’m doing but here goes… A thank you note to T25 and P90X…
Dear Shaun and Tony,
I hate you. Hate you with a vengeance that knows no bounds. You break me. Push me to the edge, never allowing for excuses. You see me at my worst, but expect my best. You make me laugh and cry. Drive me until my muscles literally fail. Then tell me to stand. Push harder. Dig deeper. And why?
Because you love what you do. Because you know that beneath the pain, the sweat, the tears, I love what you’ve made me become. Strong. Confident. Determined. You’ve shown me that trying is winning. And that my best is always good enough.
But it’s more than that. It’s a way of life. An attitude adjustment. The calm in the chaos. For those thirty to sixty minutes, it’s all the focus I need. Nothing else exists. Just us…the mat. Those damn weights. There are no limits, no impossibilities. Just my own conviction. And my unrelenting need to keep pushing play.
What started out as a means to get fitter. To fight the slide into middle age, turned into a love affair of grandiose proportions. You’re my salvation. My one true beacon. Even when everything else in my life is uncertain, I know you’ll be there. That I can escape, even if only for a few precious moments. And that by taking the time to give you everything I’ve got, I’ll get so much more in return. Except for those jokes. The ones that never change. Really, Tony. You should have thought that part through.
And Shaun. Yes, I really do want to hurt you at times. Kick that pretty boy face. But I know that’s only because you’re breaking down the walls. Then helping rebuild them. I know there are those around me that don’t think we’ll last. That inevitably, I’ll stop watching you. Participating. But those people don’t understand the lure of endorphins. The feeling you get when your sweat is dripping on the mat, every muscle quivering with fatigue. When it takes all your strength just to pick yourself up and hit the shower. That kind of love never fades. Never falters.
So here’s to us. To having you kick my ass for the next fifty years. For sharing those moments when nothing else matters, and everything seems possible. I thank you. Until tomorrow. Because it’s that really hard video and I know I’ll hate you again. And continue to do so for the rest of my life.
I have no idea if that’s even what the blog was supposed to be about, but damn it, my best is always good enough. Tony said so. Now go check out the ladies. I’m thinking they didn’t pick the same thing I did…just a lucky guess here. But I’m sure it’ll be spectacular.