Stretching to the Finish Line

Literally. I woke up in the night earlier this week sore all over. I was sore enough, in fact, that it wasn’t possible to keep sleeping on my side. After fretting about whether I might somehow have bruised a rib (unlikely without noticing it) and after reviewing heart attack symptoms in my head (totally implausible), it became clear that all the muscles in my torso were clenched. It’s possible that I’m a little tense. In consequence, I’m stretching these days, and meditating on the countdown to the end of the semester. The finish line is in sight: two more meetings of each of my classes, then grading and some stuff to finish up, followed by a trip or two, and then, a major change of scenery for a while. Nirvana awaits.

I don’t much care for exercising, but I do it because it helps me sleep. People I trust say it’s good for me, though it would be hard to prove that by me. A friend has an exercise program she calls “better than nothing:” whenever she does more than nothing, she calls that a victory. Riffing off that concept, when I do strength training, my mantra is “anyone can do three.” Even if I’m doing 10 or 15 reps, breaking them into triads helps me. I’m not ashamed to admit that sometimes I do five sets of three on my way to the ultimate goal.

So, too, the end of the semester. Any one can do three, and I don’t even have that many left. Meanwhile, I’m doing a lot of stretching and planning to be better about doing my shoulder exercises every day.

Finish line, here I come.