Refreshing Inertia

Dearest Rachel –

The world outside my door may be speeding by at a ridiculous pace – when I woke up for the first time a couple of hours ago, there were an insane amount of unread articles in my news feed to go through – but that doesn’t mean I have to move at its speed. On the contrary, while my mind took the effort to go through my feed, my body was pulling at its sleeve, urging it to return to bed; the world wouldn’t disappear if I got a little more rest, especially since, at five in the morning, what else was I going to do?

Sure, the gym was open at that hour already, but my body was already making it clear that it wasn’t going to allow my mind to order it over there just yet – and to be honest, my mind was more than happy to let my body just sit there while it pored over the latest dispatches for a little while first, anyway. Still, after the better part of an hour, even that was a bit much, as my eyes (which apparently hadn’t been suitably cleared of that salty film that forms on them overnight) rebelled against my mind, and joined the body’s protest that I return to bed. Which I did, albeit with my phone in hand, which I continued to peruse over my eyes’ steadily growing objections.

At some point, my mind concluded that it had read enough for the time being, set the phone down with a silent harumph (and an “Are you happy now?” directed at the rest of my body), and allowed my eyes to close as well, not expecting anything to come of it apart from a few moments of admittedly refreshing inertia.

Suddenly, it was as if I’d set the clocks forward for Daylight Savings Time; an hour (or more!) had simply evaporated, and I hadn’t been aware in the slightest of its passing. Moreover, in that seemingly nonexistent hour, I appeared to have lost a whole pound by just sitting and lying there in bed – and although my mind made a half-hearted attempt to argue that it was partially due to the electrical impulses needed to fuel it as it went through my news feed before the whole-of-body revolt against it, it soon shrugged and amiably admitted that the workers’ rebellion of a couple hours previous had made some strong points and even managed to get results from its literal sit-down strike. “I guess I need to listen to you guys more often,” it sheepishly grinned.

For its part, my body seemed magnanimous in its moral victory, even as it continued to express reluctance to get up and hit the gym just yet. It certainly could have pointed out that I had been up unusually late last night – past eleven, in fact (which yes, would still be early for you, but after the past week or so, would be considered an outlier for me) – and that getting up at five when there was and still is no pressing reason to do so was an excessive demand on my mind’s part. Rather, it accepted the mind’s abashed apology, and suggested it write about the conflict as a means of distracting it from reverting to form and making further demands. It even enlisted the hands and fingers to pick the phone back up and get on with typing up the story (as neither of the erstwhile belligerents felt comfortable dictating this to Siri). Furthermore, it reminded my mind that several articles had probably been published since nodding off, so that once the maneuvers of this morning’s battle had been recorded, if could go back to reading them for a while before…

Suddenly catching itself, my body decided it would be prudent not to finish that thought. But thinking was the mind’s wheelhouse; it had far more experience, and was better at it, and while engrossed at that moment in yet another article about the craziness going on in the Middle East (which it was thinking would make for a good topic to discuss with you if and when the dust settles, given that Daniel and I intend to get back there later this year, God willing), it picked up on the pause. “Before… what, exactly?” it asked, peering at the body with a quizzical look that wasn’t quite stern, but clearly had the potential to, given the wrong response.

Fortunately for my body, my mind also took that option off the table for it, before it had a chance to choose that much more wrong. “Before I tell you guys we need to get going and put in our usual workout?” A literal mental sigh echoed through me as I felt the reminder going through my head; my brain was trying to come up with the proper way to motivate the team that, up until that moment, it had thought had com together in a spirit of comity. It seemed as if it would need to inspire that in the rest of the body after all – and that wouldn’t be easy, as it had been outwitted just a few moments before; it was not exactly negotiating from a position of strength.

“Guys,” my mind began, trying to keep calm, “you do realize that we can’t stay in bed all day, right? Just because nothing is pressing doesn’t mean we shouldn’t get up and make something of the day. Besides, after yesterday’s meal – and you saw the two-twenty mark on the scale last night before going to bed –” and here he was encouraged to hear a few grudging mumbles in assent from certain quarters, “you all knew there would be some work in store to bring that back down. Not as much as any of us feared, to be sure – we actually started off in a better position than we did yesterday morning – but we’ve still got a ways to go before we’re back under two-fifteen again.

“Look, I’m not expecting miracles – I’m not gonna ask that we work until we’re under two-ten or something – but getting back under two-fifteen is eminently reasonable. It’s just our usual morning at the gym, okay? We can deal with this.”

There was a rumble from my midsection at this point, but before my mind could address what it assumed to be my growing hunger, my guts spoke up with a curiously sardonic tone. “Is that supposed to be your idea of a St. Crispin’s Day speech, dude? I know it’s first thing in the morning, but that’s hardly what I’d call inspiring.”

My mind was thrown off balance by this response – was he being heckled? It wasn’t as if the rest of the body had thought to chuckle at it or anything – but regained his footing (such as you can when you don’t have feet) and squared himself to respond. “No, I suppose it isn’t, Guts; for what it’s worth, St. Crispin’s day won’t be for another couple of months yet, in any event. This isn’t some major battle we’re about to face, nor is there some grand glory to be gained by powering through it. It’s just another ordinary day. In a way, that should make things easier for you all to get up and get going; I don’t think I’m making any larger demand on you than I do any other day, now that… uh, feet, you have recovered, right?” There was a distant, noncommittal sound from below. Evidently, while they were almost completely over last week’s inflammation, the feet weren’t any more enthusiastic about what the brain was asking them to get up and do as any other part of the body was; even less so, as they would be dealing with the brunt of the effort.

“Right; so we’re back to normal. And a ‘normal’ effort is all I’m asking for. Nothing extreme, nothing out of the ordinary, so you guys can do this. Besides, I think that if we do that, we can put ourselves in a much better position, weight-wise.

“I know that it’s not going to be some massive triumph, either – sorry, Guts – but that’s the way things are. Every day is just this small conflict we have to deal with; it’s up to us whether we gain or lose ground, however small. And we can pick up ground here, guys, if we get up and get going.” Just to emphasize his determination, my mind sent orders to pocket the phone, so his attention wouldn’t be divided, but could focus on the trip and the task at hand. “What do you say, guys? Let’s win this one, and take a few steps forward.”

My gut was right; it wasn’t the most inspiring speech. But it got me up, and over to the gym, and by the time I was cleaned up and ready to head out for the ‘office,’ I was well under the two-fifteen line. I even felt able to head out without bothering with breakfast – somewhat to my guts’ dismay, but my ears agreed with my mind that I really didn’t want to stick around and listen to the livestream that Daniel was going to be cuing up with breakfast. Maybe I’ll get something together later, after a few hours of ‘work.’

Which is where I am now, honey, wrapping this story up and telling you about how my day started. It can be a real challenge to convince this or that part of me to get going on any given day, but at least on this day, I’d actually succeeded.

Still, as the rest of the day unfolds, I wouldn’t mind if you could see your way clear to keep an eye on me, and wish me luck. I suspect I’m still going to need it.