“Run!” Brad messes with the radio as we begin running laps. A Disney princess song briefly pops up, compliments of his three daughters. “Oops” he grins at us, mischievously.
“Slide!”
I can feel my butt start to jiggle (eh, hum, one of the reasons I am here) and my heart is starting to beat a little faster.
“Bear crawl!”
I like this one; shorter legs make it easier, I think? But I’m feeling tired already and we’ve only been at it for less than fifteen minutes.
“Gloves on and grab a bag!”
As I put on my gloves and pick a bag with no one around me the first strains of Boston start to play. I like it when he plays songs from high school and early college.
“Jab cross!”
And as I hit, I sing the lyrics in my mind.
“I looked out this morning, and the sun was gone….turned on some music to start my day.”
“Jab cross , jab cross hook!”
The music flows over me, and I find myself singing the words between inhaling, between the hits.
“Then lose myself in a familiar song. I closed my eyes, and I slipped away.”
“Jab cross, hook, cross, jab jab!”
This feels good. And as I punch, and breathe, and sing quietly, a rhythm sets in.
“So many people have come and gone. Their faces fade as the years go by. Yet I still recall as I wander on. As clear as the sun in the summer sky.”
“Upper cut, upper cut!”
And I remember. Riding in the back of a hot black Iroc Z-28, Boston blaring over the speakers, a packed car filled with college kids. The music was never better.
“I like this Brad! Brings back fun memories!” The rest of the group laughs between punches.
“More than a feeling...when I hear that old song they used to play. And I begin dreamin’…”
As we move through the workout, the music makes me happy. My arms get tired the longer we punch. The interval squat jumps, jumping jacks and mountain climbers are making me sweat, muscles quiver, but the music keeps playing and my mind wanders, wondering what memories the next tune up will bring back.
Strains of Van Halen’s “Running With the Devil” begin to play.
“Jab cross, slip, jab cross jab!”
Kemper Arena, 1984, David Lee Roth’s flowing hair and wildly flamboyant sword and scarf routine…I remember. Man, what a great concert for a 15 year old from White City.
Breathe, slip, breathe, jab.
“I live my life like there’s no tomorrow…and all I’ve got I had to steal…least I don’t need to beg or borrow…yes, I’m living at a pace that kills.”
The mix of remembering to breathe, getting the combination of hits correct, trying to get my feet in the right rhythm as well, and the beat of the music…the lyrics…the memories are all combining to make this a happy place for me.
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. I don’t naturally enjoy exercising. This is different. I’ve found something that speaks to me.
But the music makes it. The music brings it all together. Without the music, well, I’d be listening to the pounding of my heart, my panting. That would make me tired. That would make me want to stop.
The music makes me want to keep going.
No way, I whisper to myself, Eddie Money? Seriously? But it works. It really works.
“Waited so long…waited so long….waited so long….waited so long. I’m gonna take you on a trip so far from here…I’ve got two tickets in my pocket, now baby we gonna disappear.”
My mind wanders to the Geico commercials and how ridiculous he seems these days. But not then…and this song is rocking right now.
“Power hits!”
As I pound, thinking about how good the right hook feels, what sounds like Power Station comes on; at least I think it’s Power Station. My mind is slipping as I get older. It doesn’t matter, the beat is still working.
I don’t look at the clock when the melodies are taking me back. That’s a new thing for me as well. To be more interested in the next song, the next set of punches…well, that’s all courtesy of the music and a great instructor.
“Grab a mat!”
We are winding down. Ab work isn’t as hard for me as, say, arm weights, and the final planks always leave me feeling proud, pleased that I showed up.
It doesn’t matter if I came yesterday. It doesn’t matter if I come tomorrow. What matters is that I did it today. Right now. This moment. It is enough.
Love it or hate it, “Paradise by the Dashboard Light” is a rite of passage for my generation, and as I hear the familiar electric guitar play those opening strains I find myself chuckling softly. My husband would have a fit if he was here.
As it pounds over the speakers, and as my muscles start to scream while holding the final plank, the keyboards are an escape. I focus on them, imagine my hands on the piano, and during those moments of redirection I can draw upon a little more in the tank, just a bit more reserve, because now I don’t want to put a knee down. I don’t want to break the line.
Small victories compared to so many. Big victories compared to others. It doesn’t matter.
The music allows it to be my victory. I wrote this as a reminder to make sure I DO come back.
“It was long ago and it was far away and it was so much better than it is today…it never felt so good it never felt so right….”
Yep. I’ll be back. After I “sleep on it, baby, baby….”
You know the rest.
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