Mass

We sat around the testing room, entered the data, watched as each went through a body comp on a beautiful piece of technology, something like a ski video game console. Got our figures on fancy paper, our skeletal muscle mass, our PBF's & BMI's. It felt like a step that you take when you know you're made of goals, even if the goals aren't clear. This was the best part of my day. A part of a picture I understood as important as it was happening. I have the fortune of friends who are afforded opportunity upon which I am afforded; outside of the healthcare system, it was a chance for me to visualize my wellness.

Part of the reason we tested our body mass differentials was to use it as a starting figure as we begin work with our strength coach, Brad Jones. This darkly lit and sleepless morning had us in the parking lot at 5:50 a.m. after a night of Kulshan Brewery's kitten mittens, live music, bar whisper-readers and salty fries. Met with Al's caffeine-fueled waving, we walked in to Core Kinetic's gym, adorned in murals of a purple dragon lifting a ketel bell, a black wildebeest with mouth agape, and various other animals with painted personalities. This morning's workout highlighted major weaknesses; I had sweat between my boobs, had to just get over the fact that Al is great at everything, moaned during planks, and felt, so painfully good. Brad is the best. Laughter rung in the deep room. We went for a run through the falls post, feeling the soreness slowly seep, together.

Running with depression is interesting. The doctor prescribes more exercise as a solution, or as a comfort. But, if you already exercise more than is typical, your "resting" place is at a different level. The logical progression is to add more to bring you beyond normal conditioning/that level, tapping into a bigger reservoir of endorphins. But if you do too much, you'll burn out, which could then fuel your depression. So the trick is to confuse your muscles safely. To confuse yourself out of depression. Nailed it. Confuse yourself out of depression. It feels like I shouldn't feel depressed if I get to run. It's a natural outlet. It garners health. I get to see interactions, changes, routes, roots. So I put the pressure on myself to distill the sad or dark, because I'm fortunate. I think this is too much pressure to put on yourself, fueled by a social conditioning of get-over-its. I'm proud that I continue to run when it would be so easy to lay in bed, pretending that the dark isn't lonely. So, a step forward - alongside friends, confuse my muscles through strength training with a ketel bell madman.