Hijacked!

I spent the last few minutes hovered over the white porcelain thrown, losing what little was left of lunch, feeling oddly triumphant. It’s been some time since I stopped mid-workout to throw up. I feared maybe I had learned something. But no! I remain in no danger of enlightenment. I can still fail to warm up properly, still throw my body against the machine at a pace that would have taxed me decades ago, and I can race coughing and sputtering to spew. Progress? Maybe. Spiritual. Who knows?

The good news, for those who read the last post so many weeks ago, is that I my heel healed quickly. Andy and I continued to train through Christmas and January, and we’re more or less on track for the Olympic Trials April 25.

The other news — the explanation of why I haven’t been posting — is that I got sidetracked/hijacked in that most glorious way: I fell in love! It began one Sunday morning in early December at ecstatic dance, the adolescent sandbox for 40- to 70-year-olds in Ashland. I’d already been rowing that morning and was feeling expansive, running on hi-test testosterone and endorphins. My soon-to-be sweetheart had been reading Calling in the One, a book about…calling in the one. Dance led into lunch. A couple nights later, on my birthday, we were outside by the river, a powerful spot where the salmon ceremony takes place. It was a cold, clear night, a magical evening with candles and champagne. I was The One. She was The One. It was a scenario straight out of college — the kind that one might think one would grow out of. The glory of really throwing myself back into myself is that it became a ticket back to the prom. What fun!

And of course, six weeks later, working and training and being in love like an eighteen-year-old…Wham! I felt as if a train had hit me! Sleepless and sick, it gradually dawned on me that the new love of my life was someone I didn’t even know. Even worse, it dawned on her first! (Don’t you hate it when that happens?) Efforts to back up and introduce ourselves led naturally enough to rancor and hurt feelings. (Don’t you hate it when that happens?)

So why am I telling you all this? In part to explain why I haven’t had the time or inclination to blog. But also to muse about something. Maybe we let our bodies go because we get tired of being hijacked by them. Really pushing the physical envelope floods us with all manner of powerful hormones, pheromones and other stuff that I only vaguely understand. Life is easier when our senses get coated with wax. We can better concentrate on the important stuff.

Or can we? One thing about throwing up, as awful as it is, is that typically finishes with a truly blissful sense of being fully alive…

Posted by Stephen Kiesling on Feb 13, 2008 at 7:00PM