Let's Get Physical. Physical.

I’ve been quite the diligent student this afternoon, but it’s time for a break and an update.

I’m lounging on the back patio of my corner café and reading Henry James through the rhythmic whir of exasperated AC units.  It is hot, but the patio is equipped with a large umbrella that filters all the scorch out of the afternoon sun.  The brick walls are clad in effusions of cool ivy that ripple with the passing breeze.  My skin is sticky, but it isn’t unpleasant.  I’m actually surprised to find myself alone out here.  I was inside for a while… everyone is surprisingly studious and plugged-in for a weekend.  While my intentions of heading to the café were also rooted in the studious, I think summer demands sitting outdoors whenever tolerable.  That, and lately I’ve been finding indoor air to be sometimes too cool and processed. 

You see, over the past few days I’ve been relearning what it means to breathe deeply.  I finally activated my gym membership and have gone twice this week already.  I dread going, I hurt while I’m there, but I feel so much more present in my body when I’m in a fitness routine.  I eat more healthfully, focus more attentively, and breathe more deeply.  I can feel myself in my body.  Sometimes it’s easy to forget that relationship.  As a student, my body often becomes a mere vehicle to take my brain to class.  I forget it, overwork it, deprive it of rest.  I’m not particularly nice to my body.  It doesn’t help that I’ve been quite cynical about the gym-going type in the past.  In fact, hardcore fitness freaks have often served as an excuse for me to stay as far away from the gym as humanly possible.  Whenever I would conquer athletic apathy and haul myself to the gym, I always found myself in tacit competition with those around me.  An absurd animalistic ferocity always seems to permeate the sweat laden air of fitness centers.  The people there all seem to be instilled with a physical discipline and sense of competition that I've never been able to master.  Let’s be honest here, I was never that great at sports; my teams always hated me because I was far too attached to fairness to be energetically competitive (“Oh I’m sorry!  I stepped out of bounds… here you have the ball now.”)

But this new commitment to working out isn’t about being seen at the gym.  It isn’t about vanity.  This is about me finally beginning to understand and appreciate the connection between who I am as a person and how I exist in my body.  Taking care of my body means taking care of myself (So simple.  And yet so difficult to practice).  I’ve always been able to discipline myself when it comes to school, here’s hoping I can finally generalize that skill to working out.  …But I’ll probably need a little help.  When you talk to me, ask me how working out is going.  I may be cultivating a more holistic view of selfhood, but a good bought of Catholic-style guilt can be incredibly motivating… keep me honest.

Safe travels if you are hitting the road for the Fourth!

Best,

Em