Just finished my workout and it’s been 2 weeks since I’ve done it. To my dismay my muscles have atrophied yet again and my free-weights were once more straining my muscles. It’s always so frustrating, these first days back to working out. Got on the punching bag too and while initially it was just a few punches, barehanded (if I do it seriously, the gloves come on), the rage and frustration flood came out and I wailed away while waiting for my dogs to do their thing outside.

I come back up, more aerobically tired from the punching bag than the dedicated aerobic stuff I was doing earlier. But I felt good. It felt good. The pain, the fatigue of letting loose. And it’s that pain I want to feel. The muscle pain, the pain from fists smacking with all my strength. Not sharp pain, dull pain. I need a heavier bag. Weapons. And space to hang said bag up on. Line the floor with gym mats. Leave my lighter bag on the floor for a different type of pummeling. If I can’t hit people, then punching bags will have to do.

I swear anyone reading these posts would think me a budding serial killer. It’s that rage in me that needs to come out. If you don’t suffer from it, you don’t understand…won’t and can’t fully understand. I’ve controlled it and channeled it so many different ways over the years, but in the end, good old fashioned physical release is the best — preferably rough, painful, intense, and hard. Yardwork fits in well here with the added benefit of instant gratification and the healing of nature.

Meaning that seriously one day I’m going to get an aneurysm.



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