1:31 -- It's time...

Every day since late-December, my heart beats like a ticking time bomb.  I glance toward the basement stairs and look away, embarrassed that I don't just walk over and bounce down them like normal.  Like the first time I think about it, instead of the twenty-first.

"OK, b...it's time to exercise," each breath conspires. 
"I KNOW," is my calculated response,
"this is my chance." 
My makeshift exercise studio downstairs awaits; jealous and wanting.

"It's good for me."
     The baby's asleep.
"It's good for my heart."
     The house is quiet.
"It's good for my mind."
     The routine frees me up to take a mental vacation.
"It's good for my jeans."
    YES.  MY JEANS.  I MISS MY OLD CLOTHES.

And, then, I make it to the closet for my Yoga pants and tank.
And, then, I bounce down two flights of stairs.
And, then, I pop on the lights... one...two...three...four...
all the way over to the TV.
And, then, I click ON to start the electronics.
And, then, I hear the contagious drums...and the encouraging chants..."Lift that leg!  HIGHER!!! 
You can do it!"
And, then, I notice the smiles, the fit bodies; the warm and speedy endorphins cover my mind and body like a race track.  It feels good to be getting into shape again.

Yes, this is my basement date with Mari Winsor's fat-burning Pilates workout.  Yes, every day.  Yes, until I can fit into each and every pre-pregnancy piece waiting in my closet like a forlorn child.  Because, yes, my maternity leave ends this weekend...and Monday, the real clothes -- the ones that don't consist of Gap exercise pants and a forgiving cotton tee -- are front and center.  Zippered waistband and all.

And, now, even as I'm slicing, my heart ticks and my mind wanders down that stairs to the familiar routine that continues to gift me with the ability to wear my old favorites...one by one.

"It's good for me.
It's good for my heart.
It's good for my mind.
It's good for my jeans."

It's time.


Write on,
b