The Arrival of the Power-Tower

It became real last night. 

We dragged the large, thin box into the dining room from its ‘hidden’ place in the garage. (How does one hide a large piece of athletic equipment in a two-person family?) B surprised me by suggesting we put it on the tile-surface right there by the stairs, where I’d have regular access (and obvious reminder) of my new quest. The ‘power-tower’ for upper-body strength training. Yikes! We’re actually creating space in both our lives for me to do this one simple thing: a pull-up. I felt anxiety and potential embarrassment in the pit of my stomach. I still don’t really think I can do this.

As I’ve stated before, this is clearly not about a pull-up. But what, then?

I’ve mused on this question all week, listing potential topics I could muse ‘aloud’ about here… The preparation (or lack thereof) of young girls to love their own bodies, no matter the shape/size. Deeper acceptance of my own large-ish build—fit, but ‘big-boned,’ we always used to say when I was distraught about my body’s lack of conformity to the dainty norms of high school. What ‘fitness’ actually means. The business and relational life of ‘personal training.’ The vast realms of kinesthetic technique alongside the body’s rather mysterious or mystical ‘fingerprint of knowing,’ distinctly configured for each of us. Lots and lots of ideas and associations have been swirling about.

Last night was not about any of those, though. B and I drove to one of our favorite ‘date’ places for an early Christmas dinner, having set aside Saturday night as ‘our’ celebration of the holiday. Given the pastoral and familial dimensions of such things, we’ve learned to (often surreptiously) protect one evening before the ‘real’ holiday in order to enjoy one another, exchange gifts, dream a bit about our shared life in the year to come. As I turned the car onto the main road, I felt this pinch of anxiety deep in my gut…alongside something that felt new.

“I’m nervous,” I said aloud.

“Nervous about what?” he asked.

“I still don’t think I can do this. The whole pull-up thing. The thing we’ve now invested money in together.”

“Sure you can. N said you were this close…” squinting his voice and placing his thumb and finger a hairbreadth apart from one another.

“She’s just being nice,” I said. “You know, like we never believe one another, claiming ‘You’re biased.’? She’s just being nice.”

“Well, out of the three of us, she’d know more than either you or me.” he said, with a smile.

I laughed, consigning him the point. The feeling of impossibility—that pinch that comes into articulation as anxiety—lessened a bit, and I found myself lighter, smiling. Getting a big ol’ Christmas present, of substantial size/cost, proved once again that where one’s treasure goes, so does one’s heart. I have more heart about this process than I did yesterday morning. Impossibility—lessened, admittedly—alongside determination and heart. Not bad.

And I do acknowledge stretching in the bathroom just yesterday morning, awaiting the water to warm up before entering the shower. I startled. As I had raised my arms, I noticed that I actually had upper body muscles. I mean, like, pronounced ones, if small or slight, fitting. A lilt to the bicep. An angle to the neck and shoulder, with back muscles appearing over the horizon of the collar bone. “Shit,” I said quietly. “I think I have new muscles.” Brian laughed aloud, “Well, of course, beautiful.”

Beautiful, indeed.