BodyChangers (Working out during Superbowl commercials)


Starting is the hardest part;
my brain knows too well.
How much easier it would be
to lay on the couch
in only pj bottoms
and crumbs of Doritos on my chest,
curled up under a blanket
with some hot chocolate
because its snowing outside,
reading about the demons
people battle in stories
rather than facing my own.

Besides, then I’d have to
go through the hassle of putting on
those self-consciously tight clothes
with skinny spandex underneath (for dignity’s sake).

Starting is the hardest part,
because even when I get to the gym,
intimidating as a hippodrome
or Roman Coliseum,
(using the willpower saved up like
an overdrawn bank account),
I wander the machines aimlessly,
trying to find one away from the bodybuilding crowd
or young athletes who
stare a bit too often
to be friendly.

Starting is the hardest.
Once I’m finally at the treadmill or weight station,
or have that kettle bell in my hand,
I can’t begin my reps until
the right song comes on,
or I count to ten,
or that attractive personal trainer walks by.

Starting surely sucks,
but once I begin,
maybe after a countdown of 3…2…1…GO
my body knows what to do,
and I become possessed by
the warrior inside.

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