Glorious October

I agree with Anne of Green Gables, who said: "I'm so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers." 

I love October. Every year I look forward to the blazing orange, red, and yellow colors that decorate the mountains, walking trails, and yards. I start baking pumpkin pies, savoring their cinnamon fragrance as they bake, and the mix of pumpkin and sweet whipped cream when we eat them. I’m thrilled the first time I put on a jacket, happy to leave behind the soggy heat of summer.  

Who needs spring when you have October? It is rich with beauty and accomplishment. The year is almost finished. There is a certain maturity inherent in October, a satisfaction in a job well done . . . or at least having survived and made it another year to enjoy the spectacular views.

Just a Day at the Gym

It was a regular day at the gym . . . except it wasn't.

I'd done a Zumba class (fun) and was convincing myself to add 20 minutes in the weight room (not fun). I had lots of excuses - I was tired. I had a lot to do. I'd done Zumba, for heaven sake. Enough is enough!

For whatever reason, I lost the argument . . . or won, depending on how you look at it. I committed to showing up at the weight room, ready to heft barbells, do a few miserable squats, and attempt a 30-second plank. I wouldn't enjoy it, because strength training isn't my thing. But I'd made a goal, so I'd go for it.

I walked in and headed to the rack of silvery weights. Then I noticed a guy working out with his trainer. The trainer was throwing a ball at him, and he was catching it with his abdomen. Sweat dripped down his face, and he lunged at that ball. No half-hearted efforts.

And did I mention he had no arms or legs?

I was immediately chagrined and humbled. How dare I whine when this man had gone through tremendous efforts just to get to the gym, let alone work out? I watched him out of the corner of my eye, with awe and admiration.

Then I picked up those weights. Heavier ones than usual.