My body feels broken. Not in a spiritual or symbolic way, but in the literal sense. It hurts to walk, sleep does not come easily, food does not have the same taste that it once did, and simple movements that I could do without thinking twice make me wince. Lying on the concrete floor in my apartment on a yoga mat with my feet propped up on the ottoman brings instant relief to everything that feels broken (mostly my back), that is until I have to roll onto one side to get up from that position because my body starts to feel as stiff as the poured cement below. Yes: broken, casse, fragmented little pieces.
My father wondered whether I was getting too old to be teaching fitness classes... "You are 35 after all..." Thanks a lot dad. Actually, I am 36, but who's counting? And too old? Are you kidding me? I mean I think that Jack Lalane is still going strong (juicer and all!) and I KNOW that Richard Simmons is going strong. I mean if he can do it, then I most certainly can as well! So even though there has been one back surgery, three knee operations, and open heart surgery, I will still keep at it... broken or not. Perhaps it is vanity, or those endorphins that bring on a high greater than any drug could, but I cannot stop moving, teaching, or being myself. Even if it means lying on a concrete floor from time to time... Thank god I brought a towel to work so that I can lie down on my office floor if needed. No ottoman, but I can always prop my feet up on that Herman Miller Chair!
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