Salvation in a Bowl of Spaghetti
I think about food. A lot. I read cookbooks for inspiration, and sometimes just as word porn. Part of my obsession with good food, however, stems from the fact I’ve been on a weight-loss journey for the past 2 years.
Part of being on that kind of journey involves exercise. It just has to.
I know. It sucks.
Currently, that involves a mix of walking, running and high-intensity aerobics twice a week, led by a British fitness instructor named Michelle. After sessions with her, I label myself as “Michelle-shocked.” However, she’s a huge part of why I’ve been successful so far.
You see, her (free!) classes attract a wide range of ages and athletic abilities. To be able to keep up with her classes, I had to do something more – I couldn’t just show up. I’d not only hurt myself, but I’d always be out of breath. So, I had to train out of the classroom. I had to practice, and keep working on the foundations – namely, my fitness – so I could benefit from her classes.
I also make sure I’m positioned closest to the fitness addicts in the class. To my left, two Germans who are fitness instructors themselves vigorously work out with the heaviest hand weights available. To the right? A Zumba instructor, who takes this class right before she teaches her own class. Their intensity, focus and enthusiasm for the class is contagious, and it continuously encourages me to raise my game.
I want to be them some day.
What does this mean in the grand scheme of things?
(1) If you want to be good, really good, you can’t just show up. You have to be continuously preparing, reading, practicing…laying the foundation for what you want to be great at.
(2) If you want to improve, you can’t just surround yourself with people who are at the same level as you are. You have to have material examples set for what you want to achieve.
So, what does spaghetti have to do with all this? Well, after expending a lot of calories in one day (run + high-intensity aerobics with weights), spaghetti? Is the closest thing to angels singing in your stomach. (I love spaghetti.) And dammit, I’ve earned this salvation.