Sunday morning is normally reserved for a run in our hollow followed by yoga and meditation, followed by a visit to the barn. And so it was today. Only the run was extended with some circuit training, kbell swings, burpees, weighted sit-ups and then that was followed up with some isolated leg work and then the yoga.
The barn belonged to me today. Meaning I got to be all alone with my trusty steed for quite a long while, which was awesome. This also meant we got to ride longer than normal and worked on lots of little things we've been doing together plus did some plain old goofing off in the form of the horse thinking that mud pits would be fun to run through until he realized that mud is really squishy. LOL. So, after working up my second sweat of the day I sent him packing back to the field with his buddies and headed home...
To a mess of weeds I have been avoiding for weeks now. This has NOT been the season for home care around our place. The weather has been unreasonably rainy. Sam has been out of town quite a lot and I have been working long days myself as it is my busy season. But, really it was getting kind of comical with the weeds so I decided that Bertha (my industrial sized weedeater) and I would kick up some green stuff, rocks, dust, twigs, etc. I am serious I normally come away from this chore with more than one portion of me bleeding. We live on what I like to refer to as a rock farm. As in if we could sell rocks we'd be stinking rich. Our house is also basically in the middle of a forest. So, trees and rocks. Rocks and trees. It isn't easy work. It really sucks mostly, which is why everyone hates to do it. So, for two hours I wacked and attacked and basically stole the rock farm that is our yard back from the onslaught of Mother Nature's pesky ones.
Right now I'm not sure if there is one part of my body that isn't sore. LOL. Bertha weighs maybe seven pounds but is a helluva machine to control. My legs were already sore from lifting Friday plus this morning's workout and ride. My upper body now matches them for needing a hot bath. And a hot bath I didn't want. After that last task I took a long, cool shower and had a Guinness for lunch.
So basically sometimes I think the best workouts come in the form of some really, damn sweaty work. If you have a chance to pick up a weedeater, dig a ditch, chop some wood... Go for it! Your body will thank you and you will also have accomplished something outside of yourself and your workout.
I like to hurt. LOL. Meaning that I like to be sore from my workouts. Soreness
means to me that my body is recovering from work. I am talking about what I consider “good” sore not being sore from injury or overuse. “Good” sore means that when you stretch maybe you feel your shoulders or your abs say ahhhhhhhhh…. “Good” sore means if you are a chick when you sit to pee your legs and bum say hello and you have to sort of grunt to stand up. LOL.
“Good” sore is how your thighs feel after a day of riding. Stairs may not be your friend in these final two examples but you will know you have earned your rest.
So, I have experienced plenty of good sore these past couple of weeks. I’ve been riding quite a bit and lifting a little heavier, concentrating mostly on more full body stuff including pullups, squats, deadlifts.
Plus I have been working as much as I can outdoors because the weather has finally for the most part turned around to actually being summer instead of the rainy season and I want to soak as much of it in as I absolutely can.
Being sore to me is very basic and leads me very much to believe in the body and the soul of myself.
I liken it to that lioness I imagine in my mind. She hunts and she sleeps. She lives her life in a mode of feast or famine. Of work and play and rest. Simple and true. She awakens with the dawn and stretches and feels the aftermath of the day before. And if she moves, works, runs and manages her place in the pride she is well.
To be good sore is to be alive and to be whole.
Because the ability to express ourselves and care for ourselves through motion is something we should be grateful for...