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My body is not as forgiving of me today. Perhaps I asked too much of it to do a full workout after missing a week. I know my body pretty well, it's made of stern stuff. I didn't ask anything more of it that what I'd normally put it through.
But, I wasn't entirely honest with it. I told it I was staying in to tape Angel, and then get some painting done. A perfectly reasonable night. Until I got to thinking about a friend of my spinning all Nick Cave tunes at Ceremony, and how many times would an evening like that come along? So off to Ceremony I went.
My body shrugged, it was pretty open to change. It was not open to getting plowed into by a driver who didn't notice me and veered into my lane. But again, it was a good body. It braked and swerved, and bit off the nasty retort when the driver waved in apology. No harm, no foul, just keep on driving...
Ceremony: an hour of Nick Cave tunes, a smoky room filled with friends and associates and the mad, mournful, manic lyrics of Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds. Enjoy the music. Enjoy the conversation. Stay for maybe half an hour, and then drive home. The body was fine with this.
But I lied to my body. One cider became two, then four. Conversations about Buffy began and ended and music called me to dance, even though I was a little warmly dressed for dancing. Twisting, shaking, turning. I put my body through another workout, and fueled it with cider. Shortly before the night ended, I finally went home. I congratulated my body on being a good sport, and getting me through the night.
My body didn't respond. It decided to exact it's revenge today. It conjured up a nice pulled muscle at the back of my next. No amount of stretching could relieve it. And it shut down all systems to 50%. My arms were heavy, my knees sore. And time stretched and crawled through the day.
The moral? Don't lie to your body. The mind forgets, but the body always remembers when you treat it well, and when you slight it.
But, I wasn't entirely honest with it. I told it I was staying in to tape Angel, and then get some painting done. A perfectly reasonable night. Until I got to thinking about a friend of my spinning all Nick Cave tunes at Ceremony, and how many times would an evening like that come along? So off to Ceremony I went.
My body shrugged, it was pretty open to change. It was not open to getting plowed into by a driver who didn't notice me and veered into my lane. But again, it was a good body. It braked and swerved, and bit off the nasty retort when the driver waved in apology. No harm, no foul, just keep on driving...
Ceremony: an hour of Nick Cave tunes, a smoky room filled with friends and associates and the mad, mournful, manic lyrics of Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds. Enjoy the music. Enjoy the conversation. Stay for maybe half an hour, and then drive home. The body was fine with this.
But I lied to my body. One cider became two, then four. Conversations about Buffy began and ended and music called me to dance, even though I was a little warmly dressed for dancing. Twisting, shaking, turning. I put my body through another workout, and fueled it with cider. Shortly before the night ended, I finally went home. I congratulated my body on being a good sport, and getting me through the night.
My body didn't respond. It decided to exact it's revenge today. It conjured up a nice pulled muscle at the back of my next. No amount of stretching could relieve it. And it shut down all systems to 50%. My arms were heavy, my knees sore. And time stretched and crawled through the day.
The moral? Don't lie to your body. The mind forgets, but the body always remembers when you treat it well, and when you slight it.
