Ode to the Gym

I haven't written poetry in many, many years.  Recently joking around at work, my friend issued a challenge; write a poetry blog entry around the gym.  I take my issued challenges very seriously.  The rules of the challenge where simple; write a poem in rhyming format regarding the gym/working out.  Rhyming?  Dang it.  But I accepted my rhyming fate and did my best.  You will find this is much different than the angsty teenage written poetry of my youth.  I decided to up the ante a bit and also throw in a Haiku.  I hope that you enjoy.

First up the Haiku -

Lift, squat, pull, press, jump.
My body cries sweaty tears.
Muscles amazing.

TA DA!  You are amazed with my sweet, sweet words of poetry, yes?

And now to fulfill the obligations of the challenge.....

Ode to the Gym

Head to the gym,
Not on a whim.
To huff and puff,
And look real tough.
Push-ups, box jumps, dips and curls,
All concoctions to make your hurl.
Triceps, biceps, lats and delts,
Work them hard and feel real svelt.
Grimace and groan,
Can I go home?
Just stop your bitchin’
Feel muscles twitchin’.
It doesn’t take long,
To feel so strong.
Hamstrings, calves, quads and glutes,
Please no more bridges, I have the toots.
Sweat, swear, grimace and pant,
You’re almost done, there is no “can’t”.
Final set, last rep.
Thank heaven!   I’m out of pep.
Muscles weak, tired, depleted,
Don’t think about this, repeated.
Take your well-earned shower,
Stretch it out for half an hour.
Tonight you will sleep like the dead,
Two days out, your legs feel like lead.
Never be afraid to improve,
Just remember to do it for you.

I hope you enjoyed this trip into poetry and the gym!

Why do my arms do that?!

I am pretty sure I have touched on my grace and poise in previous blog posts, the fact that I have none.  Having both feet leave the floor at one time seems to be a terrible idea.  I do not jump.  I have no desire to jump and really is there a reason should I be jumping? 

This is what I envision.
This week Mike has decided it is time that we push the boundaries of my self-imposed limitations.  He has requested box jumps.  I can tell he is trying to wean me on to them.  He pulls out a little step “Look, that isn’t so high!  You can totally do that!”  I skeptically look at the step, “I can do it.  I don’t want to.”  I did it because he asked really nicely.  And then the box got a little higher and a little higher.  During this exercise it becomes glaringly obvious that I do not jump on things.  Can I jump straight up like a bad ass?  Oh no, that will not do.  I have to do some weird little fluttery, fairy, girl thing with my arms.  It’s uncontrollable.  Please arms stop doing that, we don’t look cool now!

The entire time I am doing this I have this nightmarish flash of what would happen should I not get my feet high enough.  My toes would get caught on the edge of the box, sending me ass over tea kettle.  Mike is thoughtful (brave) enough to stand in front of the box should this happen.  Maybe it’s the subconscious motivation I need to really focus on my feet so that way I don’t go careening through Mike like the Kool-Aid man.

What did I enjoy this week training?  Skipping!  I realize both feet are technically off the ground at same time but they don’t start that way.  It’s a slight but very important technicality.  These were big, happy, bounds.  Arms swinging away with the childish abandon.  No one would look at me skipping and think “What the hell are her arms doing?” unlike box jumps. I don’t know that it would be possible to frown through this exercise. 

As you can see the gym is definitely a love hate relationship some days.  I hate box jumps and most other jumping.  But I do love skipping.  I hate getting sweaty but I do enjoy the feeling that I did something productive.  Find what you love and enjoy in the things that you dislike and cling to them.  They will help pull you through on the days when you rather be in your fat sweats plowing through a gallon of ice cream and a Netflix marathon.  

Sweating, butt cramps, and accomplishments.

Have you ever noticed when you are out exercising that there are different types of sweaters?  Some people seem to barely have a sheen of sweat coating their brow while other’s look like they are crawling out of a dunk tank.  I usually sweat but not in copious amounts.  It isn’t hugely noticeable unless you are looking at my pits (which is just gross.  Stop looking at my pits).  The exception to this rule is when I am at the gym with Mike.  Maybe it’s a personal challenge to see how much sweat I can produce or maybe seeing what shapes he can make out of the sweat splotches on my clothes.  Oooo that one looks like a unicorn!

Should you ever hear Mike exclaim “Oh, I have a great exercise!” and look really excited, you should be afraid.  This week’s torture contestant was my buttocks.  The combination was resistance bands and various bridges.  Sure, the first one or two are OK but let me be clear after five they get significantly less OK.  I got the most wicked Charlie horse in my butt cheeks, dual cheekage.  These exercises made me sweaty and swear a lot.  The swearing in my mind of course because I was too out of breath to enunciate clearly, like a lady.

I considered, briefly, giving up and accepting the fate of pancake butt. You know the type of rear that is so flat and kind of floppy, just like a pancake!  However, I managed to persevere.  I realize it was only one round of butt torture but I am further away from pancake butt.

We rounded out the evening making sure to tackle the ab region.  Do you know what ball passes are?  It’s where you take that giant bouncy ball (swiss ball) and pass it from feet to hands and touch the ground.   Then you go the other way hands to feet.  That counts as one.  I have tried to explain how this should really count as two but my words are lost quickly on loud exhales.  I.  Hate.  Ball.  Passes.

As much as it pains me to say it, the ball passes must be working (I can see Mike’s triumphant smile now) because I have never in my life been able to do a headstand, ever.  This weekend I was trying to show the kids how to set up for a headstand and I magically found that I could do one (sorta)!  My legs do not go straight up and I can’t hold for too long but by golly it’s a headstand!

I will forever HATE ball passes but I will give them (grudgingly) credit, dang it.