Overheard at the gym . . .

Ladies at the gym are excitedly picking out their free HIPE t-shirts as Donnie walks out . . .

Lady: "Here's white over here!"
Other Lady: "I know, but I want a large. I've got . . . uh . . .
Lady: "I know you've got those big boobs!"
Other Lady: "Aw, man, look what you did to poor Donnie! He's horrified at us!"
Donnie: "Oh, no, I know all about living with big boobs. That's how I got into this mess."

It's not a very nice thing to say . . . but it's so true. :)

Memorial Day 2014 Is a Good Day to Be Alive.

This is not going to be a long piece. I had not planned on writing anything in particular for Memorial Day; I was just going to do my thing and let the blogging sit. But I went to the gym today, since I had the chance to go to the more-intense Level 2 class in the morning. And it was intense; Wayne of HIPE only did one class today, and he made it count. I soaked through everything I wore, I hurt and I faltered a couple of times, and I snarled and panted and made "WHOOO!" noises, because I am that guy.

Yeah, that guy.

And as I'm struggling and grunting and there's sweat and snot and whatnot, Wayne is calling people out, correcting form, encouraging, calling for people to motivate. And I pass through that point where it feels like it's too hard and you're not going to be able to do it. I reach that point where it feels good to fight it. The fatigue starts to feel good. The fight feels like it's right, like this is where I should be and what I should be doing. It doesn't matter that it hurts. Hurting is part of this thing that I'm doing to myself for myself, and hurting belongs to this time as much as I do. Hurting is OK. Discomfort is OK. It's OK to be panting, to be snorting, to stumble a little bit. It's OK.

Everything is OK, because I'm alive. It's a great day to be alive. Everything about being alive feels good, including this pain in this moment. The pain won't last forever, it's just one more piece of a day.

Memorial Day.

The day when I acknowledge how good it is to be alive. When I examine what I love about life. When I think about people who gave their lives or had them taken because my nation asked them to risk their lives to enforce the decisions of a government we elected. Memorial Day is the day when people who have another day of life to live spare some time to think about people who don't, and acknowledge that, no matter how small an individual citizen's share may be, each of us owes that debt.

So, here we are on Memorial Day. I'll make the most of it.