I will pick up sweaty weights all day, hug a sweaty client, and even lay on the floor to demonstrate an exercise. But so help me God, I refuse to touch the rails on the subway.
I'm not a compulsive person when it comes to sanitation, but you would think I'd contract AIDS from a 4 minute commute. I test my balance daily by assuming the "surfing" position on the train, squeeze the glutes, and pray for the best. I am determined not to touch the rails.
This has all worked well for me until the other day when it was crowded, I was tired, and when we jolted forward quickly, I momentarily forgot about my fear and grabbed the rail. It was like that scene from the Sex In The City movie when Charlotte accidentally gets a mouthful of water during an outdoor shower in Mexico. She freaks out, starts spitting, and then craps her pants.
To clarify, no bowel movement occurs as a result of my unintentional rail-grasp, however I am now battling a horrible cold and I blame the 5 Express train.
If it turns into the HIV virus, it will be the one time I didn't want to be right...
***
We've had a lot of rain in the last few days, so when the sun came out this morning I was nearly jumping up and down. Almost attempted a cartwheel. *Almost.
My day began with a client in Central Park, which is always a blast. Between the beautiful weather and the amazing people-watching, I'm pretty much ready to face my Wednesday.
As I waited for my client to arrive, I became the sole witness of a morning altercation between a man and a young mother.
His dog wasn't on a leash, and her son wasn't in the stroller.
Dog approaches kid. Kid reaches out. Mom shouts "You should have your dog on a leash!" And from there came the natural adult version of I-know-you-are-but-what-am-I?....His response was simply a loud "Well you should have your child on a leash!"
I wanted to laugh and yet I saw the size of the dog and was 2 cups of coffee shy of unloading the appropriate amount of sarcasm to make anyone cry or being able to run for my life.
Such a fine line.
***
Life in the gym is rolling along and keeping me busy.
Hard to believe I've been here 8 months already. Its June and I have no tan. First time E-V-E-R. Chris reminds me all the time "This is the north, babe." As if to politely say my blinding pale legs are acceptable.
Meanwhile I'm trying to find the balance in applying enough blush to avoid looking like a polio victim, but not too much to look like a hooker.
Another fine line.
In all seriousness though, skincare is definitely emphasized much more here. Women wear hats, avoid the sun altogether, and pack sunscreen in their purses. Its certainly an area of my own health that I am striving to improve upon. For the longest time I was a sun-worshiper. Throughout college you could find me skipping class to lay out, and for every year since I can remember by the pool on the weekends.
Now at this chapter in life I'm taking "white girl" to a whole new level.
If it wasn't for my dance moves, I'd be a complete lost cause. Thank you mom, I will continue to shake what you gave me.
So for now I am striving to be ok with my lighter hue and stay away from any black-lights.
*Related: If you still have one of these after 1994 I withhold judgement. You should judge yourself.
Long day ahead and this cold needs to find its way out of my sinuses before 4am.
Because lets be honest, the only thing I want on/in my face that early in the morning is coffee. Caffeine.
Joe.
Fresh. Ground. Beautiful.
So cheers to rest, regeneration, and caffeinated sanity :)
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