Outside Counsel

Speaking with EGA last night, I asked if she was running, or working out at all. She said she mostly wasn't; that the program she was on before she left for school had been too much self-pressure, and that it made her feel like her body was her enemy. We left it, I think, that too much self-imposed pressure is not something she needs, but that when one has access to the sort of fitness facilities available at college, it is a mistake not to go have fun with it. I can certainly understand why it would be bad for a young woman to feel as though her body is an enemy: body image issues are a big deal, particularly for women, and EGA's recognition of this potential neurosis impresses me as healthy. On the other hand, my body is the enemy. It knows it, and I know it, and it has been that way for a long time. For the first time in a long time, I think I am starting to regain the upper hand. As it happens, I belong to a pretty nice gym, too, but I often make the mistake of not using it enough. Lately, however, on those occasions when I am too busy to go at lunch, I've been going after work. If I am so busy I can't go at lunch, I suppose I should use that time at the end of the day to work some more, but down that path lies chicken wings and cigarettes, two of my favorite Fall things. The enemy wants those things, and a lot of other things it can't have, too. Last night, for the first time in so long I can't remember, I lulled myself to sleep by visualizing a race. I am a ways away from performing at anything close to the level that I was once capable of, and even that wasn't all that much, but I'm on the track, and I am a half stride in front of the enemy.