Movement

The parking lot was a familiar one. I've been here before, it's just been a long, long time. I gave my pony-tail one last check in the mirror, grabbed my water bottle and headed for the double doors.

Walking in I wondered if anyone noticed me. Or judged me. After all, it was the first Monday of the new year. I'm just another one of those people trying to make a new years resolution. I made eye contact with no one, and maybe even hung my head in shame a little bit. Something about being there felt embarrassing. As if I should be humiliated by being there.

Making my way up the stairs, I kept my eyes to the ground. Everything was still where it was a few years ago.

I made my way to my own spot, settling my keys and water into their place. Feeling nervous, not wanting to attract attention to myself. Wanting to blend in and disappear at the same time. But I got moving. My legs pushed the pedals and may arms held on to the handles that move back and forth. It feels like running, but it feels better. It's easier and smoother and kinder to my knees.

The movement felt good. And the movement hurt.

Taking in my surroundings with one deep breath after another. The men wearing tight sleeveless shirts beefing up their muscles were still there. The girls in their sports bras and tiny shorts were there too - one right next to me. The other people there clearly there for the same reason I was. I tried to focus on myself - what I was feeling, the pace I was keeping.

Music. I need music. Will definitely be asking for some kind of iPod for my birthday this year. I can't work out without music. More thoughts ran through my mind about work and Todd. I prayed some too.

Before I knew it, 35 minutes had passed. And I felt good. I felt strong. I felt relieved and refreshed. The movement felt good. And the movement had hurt. The movement was good for me, and even though it had been awhile, my body felt like it always had after a workout.

I walked back down the stairs, sweat still dripping down my forehead, water half gone. But without feeling the shame. Holding my head up high.

Movement.

My prayer for this year is to move. In body, mind and spirit. I hope to see and experience much movement in several areas of my life this year. And for God to move in me and for me to move with Him.

*This post is dedicated to my friend Trish. Movement was her word of the year last year and it felt fitting for me and my heart as 2012 begins. She is one inspiring lady and her own movement has had much impact on the heart and journey of others.*