Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life? –Mary Oliver
“No man has the right to be an amateur in the matter of physical training. It is a shame for a man to grow old without seeing the beauty and strength of which his body is capable.” –Socrates
I was at the dump this morning. I’ve been going a lot as we rebuild the deck. And that’s a story for another time. As I flung Trex and lumber from the truck bed, I pondered life and maturing. As I mature (because I never age) and continue to work out with weights, I understand more about the idea of recovery.
I used to be able hammer my body daily, and I’m still the most active gym attendee I see. Age notwithstanding. I push. I can’t not.
I’m not a goer through the motions-er. I never stop moving; not in a spaz kind of way, but in a focused and completely immersed way. I’m there for a reason.
The earbuds metalcore probably doesn’t aid in me appearing docile.
Maybe some talkers think I’m rude, but maybe others think I’m purposed.
I think some epic famous patriot icon once said, “Ask not what your curls can do for you, but what you can do for your curls.”
Or something like that.
Anyways, recovery. The idea that you’ve done something out of the norm, and you need time to recuperate. As I mature, I find that I’m still doing sufficient loading of my form to create the need to let homeostasis find the front door.
I got after chest this morning, trying some new reverse press movements that even as I was doing them made me aware I’d be sore for days.
One side of my head: “Ooooh, this is fun.”
The other side of my head: “You’re gonna be soooo-rrry.”
It made me smile in a devious shitbird kind of way.
The other side of my head wins a lot.
That’s the idea of physical recovery. Bringing fullness of effort often requires rest. And it’s usually true that the more strenuous the effort the more rest time might be needed.
Some people rest without previous effort.
That’s not rest.
Don’t get me started.
Rest after going all in. Only it’s not really rest, is it? It’s not like my form stops working.
It transitions from performing to repairing.
Healing, really.
Recuperation is repairing. And healing.
I need to be healed.
That could maybe also be a life-principle, yes? When you’ve done something rigorous, or when life has done something rigorous to you, you might need some time to just…heal.
Caution: Healing ahead.
Take a break. Stand down.
As you were. Leave off for a bit.
Breathe.
You survived.
Drop the metaphorical shoulders.
Big, fat, sigh. Fold in.
Take a break. Purposed rest.
Footrest out. Blanket.
God put it in nature, yes?
After the explosion that is spring and summer, then fall and winter.
After the explosion that is orgasm (at least for me), then collapse and oxygen.
After the explosion that is a tornado, then blue sky and quiet.
After the explosion that was the Word, then the seventh day.
I saw and see it in the awful floods that were here in Tennessee and North Carolina this fall.
Houses floating, caskets floating, horses floating.
Energy savagely unleashed. We’re just now seeing some rest and recuperation start to creep in. So needed before people can keep going.
Purposed, focused, taking a break.
Rest.
Work, rest.
Explosion, quiet.
Discipline, cake.
(Ok, two pieces of cake. What? Don’t judge. Eff, I love cake).
We set focused financial goals and lean hard into them.
And then find beachfront in Florida or Myrtle Beach.
We have heavy conversation and then watch Blacklist.
A day of Tennessee hills yard work and then a perfect skaken Bardenay Martini (Gin, of course).
Work hard, then make room and time to set it down, turn loose of it.
It’s important, I think. To be able to be ready for the Next.
The Next will, and should, come.
Rest.
It’s as much needed as the Hard.
It’s actually part of the Hard.
Do the Hard and the Good comes.
Lean into the Hard.
Hate the Hard but use the Hard.
Then seek out the Recovery.
Middle Age Mark 