Relaxing, My Way.

Sometimes you just need to forget about life for awhile. Sometimes you just need an escape that is deep, and beautiful and carefree. Sometimes things just get so complicated you need to "bust a move on outta there."

I like to go to the gym. Lifting weights, cardio the mechanics of exertion, sweat, these are anesthesia to the soul. Plug in some music, and forget about your troubles 12 repetitions at a time. I use the strain to unwind, break free from my day, drift, no purpose, no promise, just me and the machine, or kettle ball, or free weights in harmony. Symbiosis as exercise. It is almost beautiful.

In the back, though, it is not peaceful. It is where the serious lifters practice their discipline. Big, strong young people, muscular, defined and dedicated, this is where they work out. It is filled with the sound of weighted plates clanging onto barbells. Crash, slam. Grunts echo from the area. Odd, aggressive encouragement sounds a cadence for the supreme effort.

"C'mon, once more!" Leaning right over the prone figure, flat on the bench, struggling mightily to lift that huge weight one last time. It always seems angry, and I half expect the motivation to be followed by a string of unprintable insults. "C'mon, once more, you #$%cki#g p2$$y." It hasn't yet. It is almost always followed by a loud explosion of sound as the barbell is dropped, and the lifter and hostile sounding cheerleader/weight lifting assistant celebrate the success. "Yeah!" Slaps on the back, high fives, and other congratulatory sounds.

They use the gym for gains, the thrill of growth, almost a conquering of yesterday's achievement. I envy their dedication, but I could never do that. They work hard. And long. And it shows. I am only their long enough to shake off the day.

I like to kayak. Paddling and floating, temporarily, away from the life's troubles. Perspective is different on the water. It is quiet on a kayak, the blades splashing gently, sometimes the paddle sits in your lap, and the boat cruises almost soundless.

There are parts of the world that can only be seen from the water. Last week we went to a new launch
site. Arriving early it was quiet and there were fewer people. Just south of the ramp (really just a sandy, gentle incline) was an island. Paddling around the farthest point we saw a dead tree standing slightly taller than the other trees. Sitting all over the top of the bleached white skeleton were probably thirty or forty birds, big birds, ospreys I think. It was a wonderful sight, but you would never see it from shore.

Kayaking is an odd pastime. I see people who look as though they have been kayaking forever in small, inexpensive looking boats. Paddling, turning, comfortable, they are experienced, natural. And I see people who look as if they have never launched with boats that easily cost $1400.00, and they look miserable on the water. Even with peddle drive and a rudder, they just look out of place. Ours were a couple of end of the season bargain cave beauties that float, steer and help us unwind. They maybe the last "yaks" we ever buy.

Life is nothing more than a series of choices. I try to choose to be happy whenever I can. That is the only advice I have. It seems silly, almost sixty years old and I still don't know anything.

Somehow, this song seems appropriate for this post.