Day three and four
Busy weekend and still things to be thankful for.
So let’s get on with the hug fest, shall we? (Minus the hugging, of course. Because, well, you know how I feel about that.)
Yesterday I was thankful for my hands. Oh yes, my hands. Why? Because. Think of all our hands do in a day. Today, alone, my hands have typed, high fived, held my kids and drove a car. And that’s not all, just some.
At work yesterday it was a patient’s birthday. She turned 92. And the first thing I noticed was her hands. Wrinkled, well aged, strong. I immediately wondered all the things they have done. Was she an artist? Did she build things? Was she an amazing bread maker? What did those hands do for her in 92 years?
For me, my hands are amazing. They allowed me to learn to play the saxophone all through elementary and high school. Fast, intricate changes in music, and my fingers would follow. They have allowed me to become a pretty good artist. While being an artist takes more than just a good set of hands, they sure help. And I’ve created some amazing things between my vision and my hands. I was able to do countless pushups and crawled through mud, dirt, rocks and grass in Basic. I was trained to protect myself and my country, with my hands. I’ve held my husband’s hand as we said our vows. I’ve held my babies. I’ve wiped their tears. I’ve gotten them safely across dozens of streets by holding their hands.
My hands have been good to me. For 27 years, they have been very good to me.
So I am thankful for them.
Today I am thankful for endurance. After taking nearly 8 weeks off, I had returned to teaching RPM with the promise that I wouldn’t do a full class, just enough, and act like a pregnant woman. I have done just that. But before I did, however, I was petrified that I would have lost all that endurance I had worked for. Not to mention, being pregnant alone makes one short of breath any how. (Climbing stairs, anyone?)
But today, I subbed a Sunday morning class. This class was full of people who didn’t know me, didn’t know what to expect, but did expect a hard workout. And I brought it to them. I told them to challenge me, challenge themselves. Challenge the pregnant person in front of you. Dig deep, find that inner strength and personal motivation. Go faster, go harder, don’t quit.
And as the class was leaving, one woman stopped and said, “That was the best spin class I’ve ever had. Ever.”
Having been hindered by the SCH and the limiting I had to do with exercising, I found out how to be a better coach to my class. I was able to get off the bike and see them preform. Were they going hard enough, did they dig deep enough, did they push themselves? And how about form? Were they on or were they going to injure themselves? By getting in their faces, I was able to find how each member preferred to be motivated. Something I would say would make a few of them go faster. And to those who didn’t, I would just walk up to them and motivate them. I’d tell them, “When you came in this room, you came here for a hard workout. So enjoy.”
So when I got back on the bike, I was so afraid that they’d laugh at me. That they’d say, “So…it’s true, those that can’t do, teach.” But I impressed them and mostly, I impressed myself.
I don’t do anything that would put the baby in jeopardy. But I still stay true to myself and keep my standards high. How can I expect someone else to do the same for me if I don’t do that for them?
So today, and for the past several weeks I’ve been back on the bike, I have been so thankful for my endurance. For not letting me down and allowing me to do what I love so much.
That’s what I’m thankful for this weekend.