The vote, my vote . . .

Today is Super Tuesday.  The nation waits with bated breath.  I, too, am eager to see the result.  It’s another one of those I-can’t-wait situations where it is hard to enjoy the moment.  But I’m multi-tasking fool so while in one sense I can’t wait, in another I can enjoy out my window what my Google homepage has already shown me – A bright blue sky, the golden halo of sunlight at its far eastern edge. 

And with that I can begin to write about what I really wanted to write about for today.  At the beginning of the year, I wrote about how T and I had decided to buy into the Y.  I also wrote how the expense of such a venture would only be ameliorated by our use of the facilities.  In this case, more would cost less.  So we have been going, T has joined a twice a week walking class and begun to re-discover parts of Encinitas that she knew as a child.  Needless to say she is in heaven because not only do they walk but they talk.  Meanwhile, I have been going at least 4 times a week and have developed a nice little routine for myself.  First, I ride the bike machine.  30 minutes.  This gives me time to read a part of whatever book I on.  Then I stretch, something simple like the Callenetics ones where you reach high and then sweep your arms low, and the foot on bench one where you slowly stretch out the hamstrings.  Next, I get on the walking machine.  Another 30 minutes or 2 miles whichever comes first.  Here, I could read too but I prefer to use the time to meditate.  Time sort of disappears.  Thoughts bounce around inside even as I feel my legs begin to stride out.  Finally, as my own special cool down, I walk down the corridor to the gym where I pick out a basketball and begin my own special routine, one from when I first started playing.  The one where I put my back to the basket and shoots hooks with either hand.  Then I play a game of horse against myself, right hand versus left, and finally, the make ten set shots in a row one which has become harder over the years but now seems to be coming back to me.

Picture this
a kid, a basketball, a squeaky footfall.
The thump against the metal hoop hung on the wall.
The sweat in the burning eyes, the deep panting breaths,
The hot asphalt melting shoe soles ’til their
The feel of the leather cupped in his palm,
The push of muscle as the shot forms its arc
The lights of his dad’s car
holding back the dark.

The thing is this whole idea was something I was doing for T.  I thought I already got enough exercise with my bike riding and dancing but it now turns out that I was wrong.  The pounds are starting to melt.  The use of the machines is giving me time to contemplate things before I write or work on the business.  And basketball, the other love of my life is coming back to me.  Yes, the votes are in.  We win.


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