This week I joined 24 Hour Fitness, located just down the road from our house. It's been several months since this post, and I'm glad I finally got up the nerve to do something about it. Plus my 30th birthday is rapidly approaching, adding to my motivation.
Each day this week I broke out of my normal pattern of study/reading while Theo's at preschool and have instead been working out, slowly burning calories that largely accumulated while sitting in bed holding Vincent. Considering my last intentional exercise was well over six years ago, I'm not as sore as I anticipated.
But the thing is.... I don't really feel any better inside. I'm still tired, exhausted, angry, sad. Perhaps there is no golden ticket—no one specific thing that will make my life more bearable. I guess I should know after eight months of grief work that the only way to feel (minutely) better is to keep walking, moving forward (wherever and whatever that is).
Lord, strengthen me.
Let my hands be adept to serve,
feet quick to follow,
eyes sharp to see.
My heart, steadfast, be Yours.