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Why I work out

Days like today, I can't wait to get to the gym. My mother called and told me my grandmother won't live much longer. I saw a cockroach in the kitchen. My boss is calling me in for a meeting on Monday and told me to bring Union representation. I have a knot in my stomach and although there is little I can do about these problems tonight I am filled with anxiety.

Before I dicovered the joys of physical exertion I might have delt with my anxiety by less healthy means, perhaps spending money, maybe drinking, maybe starting an arguement with my husband about some little inconsequential thing. But now I have the gym. I might not be able to heal my grandmother, or ease her suffering. I may not be able to get my neighbors to clean their houses the way I clean mine. I cannot speed time to get Monday's meeting over with. But I can get out of the house, clear my head, push my body to the limit and move closer to my goals. I can be stronger, faster, better. I can be more beautiful, healthier.

 

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