The Dumbbell Dance!
Lifting up and down, open and close, feeling fiasco initially. Velocity of movements varying as per the weights I carry. Alternating the weights drives me nuts. Feels like a drag race. Repetitions sound like death calls. Resisting ways to sneak out. The dormant anger though accumulated by other reasons starts getting active. To build the right muscles and strength can appear to be baking up yourself as a cake.
Trimming yourself feels bulky at first. Doggedly framing your mind for the freaking activity of shaping your dreams fuels the staying power. Ignoring the sluggish responses and diligently working out, the concept of pain makes you strong, actually comes true in direct sense. The hour of weight training suddenly makes you forget the concept of tranquility. Time stands still when music starts disintegrating and things start sucking. Knowing the truth that it’s rewards are priceless starts irritating. Freedoms to skip the gym without a twinge of guilt are the thoughts that start dancing in your head. The quest to kill what you can’t save. The swift current of your complete attention on the weights. Releasing fear of being judged and performing only to build strength and improve oneself when my mind has been dumbed down and my willpower crippled. The trial is refining me. The test is strengthening me. How I wish I could be strong without these puddles of weights. Still the first inklings of new growth cheers me up for the ride.
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