At the Gym

During the course of my workout yesterday at the Y, I noted these reactions:

1. Pity


2. Scoffing


3. Bemusement and astonishment that a woman my size was so incredibly flexible (along with a shake of the head, like "whoa, who'da thunk?)


4. and, a couple of double takes from several young children (one little girl turned around to see me three times), to which I outwardly sighed and inwardly responded, "Yes, I'm fat. Get over it."

Sometimes when I would go to the gym and that would happen (the looks, because the looks inevitably happen), it would discourage me in a big way. Yesterday, sitting on the mat outside the fitness center, feeling very pleased with myself and my workout, (which is when the #4 reaction occurred), this is what came rushing into my mind:

What HOPE feels like

Sweat dripping off your nose

after 30 strong minutes on the Eliptical

when you could barely do seven before.

The way your thigh muscles sporadically twitch

after multiple sets of squats.

The sweet, encompassing fatigue

that follows a thorough stretch.

This is what HOPE feels like.

Take that, Despair.