Today I learned that exercise can totally be a popup blocker for the soul. How so? In the middle of a day where I felt tired, icky, stuck, and stale, I went upstairs and worked out with my new weight machine for an hour (I’ve noticed that there are some exercises I can totally feel in my abs, even when they’re ostensibly targeting other parts of the body, but that’s for another time.)

I love this machine. Granted, it’s still new, still a toy and not a chore, but I love that I can be in my library, with the huge wall of windows, and watch the trees and life on the street, and be inside my own head, and enjoy sweating.

I never thought I’d find myself typing those two words.

I know, intellectually, that my funk was broken, at least for a bit, because exercise releases endorphins. I know that two workouts is just a baby step (the first was Monday), but I’m really proud of myself for doing two more reps on every exercise today than I could on Monday, and I’m even prouder of myself (more proud? Whatever.) for going up there today when what I really wanted to do was turn on the heating bad and eat brownies in bed.

The year will keep turning. My funk will eventually dissipate completely.
I have hope now.