Usually I wake up with my eyes still shut, kinda stretch a little, and point my squinted, half-focused eyes toward the half-dim red glow of the digital numbers: 6:15 a.m. Usually. But this morning my eyes popped wide open and I would have been staring at my ceiling if there had been any light in the room. And the very first thing that crossed my mind, before I even flinched, was "Wow. My legs are so sore." I knew this day (and the next 48 hours!) was gonna be just a smidge different.Different because my normally energetic and limber body labored to get out of bed, in and out of the rig, winced in pain putting on kickers, and walked so short-strided you'da thought I had gravel in my shoes. OK, that last analogy is a slight exaggeration, but I can't remem
ber a time my butt, hams and thighs have been this sore. Ooooooh yah.We die-hard health and fitness buffs often display the special kind of mindset needed to embrace such physical discomfort: The kind of mindset that defaults to "Man, I hit 'em GOOD!" and not "Man, ain't doin' that again!" A mindset aware of the knowledge that those torn and screaming muscle fibers initiate a cascade of repair which will transform a typical "mommy" figure to a "hot mama" figure. A mindset that comes from an unshakable belief that when the time comes to shed this body fat . . . a new and improved physique will emerge . . . and all of the laboring, wincing, and gimpyness will be -- unequivocally -- well worth it.
And if you're anything like me . . . the previous was a nice lil' pep-talk through the bitter-sweet sting of a really, really good workout.
With you in the tough times, lol
chelle





