34 Sit Ups

I put a dollar in one of those change machines. Nothing changed. 

(George Carlin)

Dangerously Empowered

Yesterday, I watched this video about starting a running program and training for a 5K.

I was taken by the author's assertion that making a change, such as beginning to run, can spill over into the rest of one's life, and the results may be dangerously empowering. 

I love this term and it has been sitting in the forefront of my consciousness ever since. Although, of course, dangerously here means something like deliciously or thrillingly. This is what we are hoping for, right? Not just the sit ups, but also the magical empowerment to live a life that is full of our most desired experiences. 

I wrote at the start that I would like to travel and make the world a better place, as well as be strong enough to do 365 sit ups. I'm not done, I guess that's the point for me. And the stronger I am, the better I will be able to continue existing into very old age--traveling, making art, and maybe even living more than several dangerously empowered decades. 

I particularly love the idea of being dangerously empowered and 85-years-old. 

If Sit Ups Hurt Your Lower Back

Here are two options. First, crunches, said to be safe for lower backs, while still delivering "six pack abs." 

Not surprisingly, this gentleman's abs and mine are very similar after my fifty sit ups the other day. 

And, for those of you still pained by crunches. There's always this technique for getting six pack abs. I think I could do this. I think I could. 

Reading List

DAUGHTER: Haven't you ever heard of the Little Engine That Could? 

ME: Who? 

DAUGHTER: I think I can. I think I can. I think I can. 

Fifty Sit Ups

So technically I was only supposed to do thirty sit ups today, and I did. Then, I thought, why stop there? Why not keep going? So I paused and then did twenty more. And I didn't die, although I might have sounded like I was dying, because my daughter yelled from the next room, "Don't kill yourself!"

My new technique is to enthusiastically say to myself (internally) "I can't do this" after counting off each sit up, as if "I can't do this" actually means something along the lines of "you are amazing! you are doing it!" Is this what people mean when they talk about embracing the no? (Or maybe that is embracing the now..?) Anyway, this is all staring to seem very narcissistic. Who cares? Thirty sit ups. Fifty sit ups. 365. 

MY BELLY: I care. ME: I wasn't talking to you, was I. MY BELLY: You said who? The answer is, me and my low pain threshold. ME: Some day you'll thank me. MY BELLY: Don't count on it. 

27 Sit Ups

Two strange things about daily increasing sit ups. First, every day the additional sit up absolutely kills me. I can barely do it and afterwards must groan very loudly and collapse dramatically onto my back. But, the next day, yesterday's sit up is cake, and the new additional sit up is the impossible one. This has been true every day since the eleventh sit up. 

Second, after every sit up, my mind tells me I can't "do this." It's like this: One (I can't do this). Two (I can't do this). Three (I can't do this). And so on and so on. I think this is so weird. Why is my mind in charge of telling me I can't do sit ups, as it seems to be? And what else is it telling me I can't do? 

This reminds me of when I gave birth to my youngest daughter and my oldest daughter was in the birth room. For a time, I said, in a quite calm and reasonable voice, "I Can't Do It! I Can't Do It!" This went on for something like six hours, until miraculously, I did it. 

My oldest daughter, who heard all of this with some adult intervention (strategic trips to the ice machine down the hall), would for weeks, whenever she was crying over a scraped knee or hurt feelings, instead of saying "Owww!" or "it hurts" would say "I can't do it! I can't do it!" 

Is this how it starts? 

Five Sit Ups

One thing I really like about sit ups is that while I am sitting up, my field of vision is filled with the eucalyptus trees out the window--lovely, slight breeze--and while I am lying back down, I see the ceiling--smooth, white like the tundra, with nothing to make me feel like I need to go tidy up.