When I get into a bad mood, my eyes tend to always focus higher than usual. It’s like, if you were to be staring at me, you might think I’m looking you in the eyes, but in reality, my point of focus would be on your eyebrows. But on a general scale, my point of focus tends to raise an inch or two, when I’m feeling upset.
I don’t necessarily know why that is, but lately it’s been occurring more than I’d probably be liking it to. But I don’t know what’s really going on lately, but people can’t stop saying things that irk me, people I work with can’t stop being incompetent at their jobs, and when my mood goes sour, my general attention span and tolerance for the redundant reduce drastically, and I’m kind of just over, existence, to say the least.
I was running on the treadmill, building up a good sweat, and occasionally thoughts that serve as the stimulus for some of my brog posts come to mind. During my general state of discontent with the world, it occurred to me that the gym, but more specifically the act of physical exercise seems to be a great outlet from the rest of my small little world.
Baseball sucks because the Braves suck, collecting bobbleheads is sucking, people on the internet get insufferable, narcissistic, petty and too hostile, work is sucking, and it all boils down to the fact that people basically ruin everything.
The gym, and working out in general is pretty much the only thing that doesn’t suck on a regular basis, which leads me to conclude that salvation is exercise.
People can’t ruin exercise for me, because quite frankly there aren’t enough people in my small little world that actually also exercise at anywhere close to the consistency and dedication that I do, so their opinions on exercise mean very little to me. Even those who do, who try to mock me or make jokes at my expense about my own exercise habits splash right off of me like water on a duck’s tail, because in the end, every single person’s exercise habits are different, and we all have our own routines and tendencies.
Going to the gym and exercising on a regular basis is daily salvation. Even if I facetiously bitch and moan about soreness or being worn out, every day that I push my physical capabilities in some fashion is a day that’s better than one where I don’t.
The gym is ruin-proof. Un-ruin-able. Salvation.
