Inertia

An object at rest tends to stay at rest. Repeating that now makes me feel like an asteroid. A big, craggy and pointy mass of rock that moves through space uncontrollably, and the only way it gets any smaller is violent collision with another more large and craggy and pointy rock. I am not an immovable force. My weight is not an unstoppable object. I am not my fucking khakis. And that's what I get for mixing my metaphors.

I love the idea of going to the gym. I love it right until I fall asleep. When I wake up, all of that changes. I wake up stiff and sore and sure that there is no way in hell I can get a workout in.

Time to be Rocky, I guess. No pain no gain. Cut me, Mick. Gonna fly now. There aint gonna be no rematch.

I watched GI Jane last night for some ungodly reason and it made me as a question: How often are our limits tested? When was the last time any of us was truly brought to our threshold for pain? How deep can we dig?

Those tests are painful reminders of our mortality. Or, they can be life affirming journeys o self discovery. Imma go dig deep.