Questions posed~

I often to refer to my trainer as my friend. I readily think he has become that with both Tommy and me. We laugh, we yell, we push, we help, we heal... all in the matter of moments we spend in the confines of his gym.

Lately, we have been talking about other things. Things that seem to be bothering him. That is quite unlike him, but I am sure everyone has their moments of frustration. I definitely had mine last Wednesday.

Today he gave me a photocopy of an article. I am not sure if it was meant for me specifically or in general for the ladies that frequently sweat it out in the place we jokingly refer to as hell.

I, personally, find beauty in everything. Every person I see has a trait I find to be special: a look that can make someone stop and loose their breath, a smile that can melt a heart and a word they can utter that will make some loose their own train of thought. No one is perfect, but flaws are what make us all stand out in special ways.

Here is the article.

By Jon Gilson

If I were feeling a little more lawless, I'd gather all the copies of Cosmo and Seventeen, douse them in kerosene, and strike a match. I'd throw in reams of print ads from Calvin Klein and watch with delight as Kate Moss' stick-think image was reduced to carbon. I'd add copies of Shape and Runner's World until the flames reached toward the heavens, and then I'd crank call the editorial desk at Muscle and Fitness until they stopped publishing pictures of women on steroids.

I'd get the master tapes of America's Next Top Model and dub them over with "NASTY GIRLS", broadcasting the results on every television station in America. I'd skywrite, "Crossfit.com" across the Boston Skyline, and gently admonish the hoards of long distance runners trotting along the Charles River-with a bullhorn.
I'd take every woman with the mass media-induced ideals of beauty, and I'd show them what it really means to be beautiful.

Beautiful women are strong and powerful. They are athletes, capable of every feat under the sun. The have muscles, borne of hard work and sweat. They gauge their self-worth through accomplishments, not by the numbers on their bathroom scale. They understand that muscle weighs more than fat, and they love the fact that designer jeans don't fit over their well-developed quads.

They know that high repetitions using light weight is the path to mediocrity, and "toning" is a complete and utter myth. They refuse to succumb to the marketers that prey on insecurity, leaving the pre-packaged diet dinners and fat-burning pills on the shelf to pass their expiration date.

Beautiful women train with intensity. They derive self-image from the quality of their work and their ability to excel. They don't wear make-up to the gym, and they wouldn't be caught dead with a vinyl pink dumbbell. They move iron, they do pull-ups, the jump, sprint, punch, kick, and they use the elliptical machine-as a place to hang their jump ropes.

They spend their weekends in sport, climbing walls, winning races, and running rivers. They laugh as they sprint circles around the unschooled, turning the image-obsessed into bench warmers. Beautiful women don't care if they're soaked in sweat and covered in dirt, if their nails are chipped or their hair out of place. They care only about quality of life.

Beautiful women are happy, healthy, and strong, and they're right there beside me, tossing conventional beauty on the ever-growing flames of what used to be.

BE BEAUTIFUL!

Here's to all the ladies I know that are just that...
Beautiful!