Consumed

I am consumed by fitness. Ever since I hurt my knee August 18, I can think of nothing but my resting heart rate, my body fat percentage, and kettle bell swings. The injury came after 4 weeks of an Angels fitness challenge, 8 intense weeks of CrossFit and only two weeks of rugby practice that were equally as intense, and actually included elements of CrossFit...like dozens of burpees. I was feeling fantastic (most days) because I reached a place I hadn't been in years.

I think the biggest disappointment for me was not watching the game from the sidelines, but losing my fitness base, because I had worked so hard to build it. I've been feeling very sedentary in general since college and have put on weight and mushiness in places that Jim Sullivan used to make solid. I recall the fitness routines of Penn State Rugby, bear crawling up enormous hills and lifting in the glistening varsity weight room in Rec Hall, the endorphin high I got from two hours of conditioning...and when I think of these things I feel sad because compared to that, I am a terrible physical specimen.

I have such genetic predisposition to be amply-thighed and buxom beyond belief. When I feel myself slipping away from good heart health, I get these visions of many chins and struggling on stairs. I need to stop talking about fitness and freaking commit to finding it again.

My knee is performing back at 98%. Today is November 1 and I am back at CrossFit starting Monday. So help me, I will return to my summer levels and surpass them. And then, who knows? Maybe the fit, healthy me that waved goodbye five years ago can resurface and stick around forever.