I showed up to the gym without a shirt on.

Moments prior, I dashed around the house, throwing various items in my teen son’s former backpack, another hand-me-up, emblazoned with colorful profiles of various Marvel superheroes. Predicting the things I’d use to get ready in a short amount of time was harder than expected, but I had an appointment one hour after my fitness class was scheduled to end. Make up, accessories, clothes, shoes…a book for the waiting room at the appointment. Grabbing the knob of the front door, I remembered sunscreen. I raced up the stairs to grab the final item and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror-yoga pants, socks, a sports bra.

The yoga pants fit differently than other pairs, rising to where stretch marks from pregnancy begin and in view of the edge of my at-home bellybutton piercing scar from my delinquent youth. I acknowledged abdominal bloating from the mild endometriosis flare up…it wasn’t the best look. But there wasn’t a moment longer to waste, so I headed out the door with haste.

No parking spots. No time to seek down the street, I exchanged my keys for a numbered paper stub with the parking attendant and quickly found myself facing my reflection amongst other bodies of various shapes and sizes. Again, I felt a twinge. Some of these bodies surely were meant for bright lights in New York City, modeling before family life led them to the suburbs. Some of these bodies are the recipe for upward social mobility. Some of these bodies surely are wealthy enough to do nothing but eat right, exercise, and file their nails. Amongst them, there was my body.

I remembered last week’s post about measuring what matters. Not aesthetics, nor weight, nor bloat. After receiving a compliment about having “the best energy,” I wrote that post about what should be measured was good form–both in body mechanics and in attitude–and consistency–showing up.

I remembered: I’m not the one with the best body. I’ll never have legs for days, perky breasts, unblemished skin. I’m the one with the best energy. My flaws are of no concern. Yet, a different demeanor could be. I pushed aside thoughts of my imperfections and attacked the workout as I usually would: a smile on my face, emphasis on good form, and the best of my abilities.

I’ve decided, in addition to Form and Consistency, there are three F’s and an I that matter: Fellowship, Fun, Finishing and Intervals.

Fellowship

I’ve written before about this instructor, David, and his motivational messages. Today he brought up UConn’s NCAA Men’s Basketball Championship from last night.

He spoke of how one student on the opposing team was over seven feet tall and made nearly forty points on his own. But one guy doesn’t win the championship. He didn’t have the team.

He talked about us as a team–he does this often, which once struck me as unusual. We’re working on individual fitness, not a common goal…right? This time, he elaborated when he spoke of how the energy we bring to a room effects everyone else. About how attitude, energy, is contagious.

How do you spread your energy?

I can take pride in knowing that I show up with the good stuff. But how does it spread? Later in the class, when I gave a high five and I heard from a new woman that I had “the best energy”, I thought of how it’s something I can keep to myself while giving it away at the same time.

When I wrote of form as one of the measurements that matter, I did so with the assumption that good energy catches on. But if I shrugged off compliments or just smiled awkwardly, it would be like wearing an N95 for good vibes.

Fellowship is…

Ubuntu.

Acknowledging strengths. I once read that oxytocin is released from giving compliments, so I give those things out like I’m Oprah. I don’t let a positive thought about another person stay in my head.

Smiling at everyone.

Including others.

Fun

A recent conversation with a new-ish neighbor:
“Is your house the one with the leg lamp?”
“Yes! I took it down now that winter is over. I had the Lucky Charms Leprechaun up for St. Patrick’s Day and a bunny for Easter.”
“I noticed! So fun!”
“I’m all about fun. I once read that whoever has the most fun wins, and I’m very competitive.”

’nuff said.

Seeing it through to the Finish

“When I’m counting down, do you stop at five? Or are you seeing it through to the end? What are your practicing if you always stop early? You’ll get really good at cutting yourself short.”

David Reyes

Another marker I can look at is follow through. I come up with ideas all.day.long. Some only go so far as a few words hastily typed into the notes app on my phone. Some are paragraphs-long blog posts that have been sitting in my drafts for years. Many are piles of tools and materials piled up in my basement–a graveyard of disregarded inspiration. One is to my left as I type right now–an unfinished painting of Southport that was begun at the end of last year, before life turned to chaos.

Intervals

Though I had somewhere to be quickly after my workout, I wasn’t the first to rack my weights–I never am. I accept not only high-intensity intervals that leave me out of breath, but also intervals of rest and stretch between. Stones are strong, yet you cannot build a strong wall of them with no mortar. Rest is the mortar. Being in every moment is the mortar, not rushing from space to space–like I was this morning.

In sum

I mentioned that in the last post about measuring what matters that though I know the value of less, I found myself pushing for more friends, though the relationships weren’t as deep as I desire. I was pushing for more reps, more lbs to lift, and more speed. I was comparing myself to others in realms that weren’t of utmost importance to me. I don’t need to be more popular, faster, stronger or better.

These are the markers I will measure, the questions I will ask myself when I catch the old competitive streak on my tail:

• Am I being Consistent?
• Is my form correct?
• Am I creating fellowship?
• Did I fill it with fun?
• Did I finish strong?
• Am I considering intervals of activity and rest?