Rope was jumped. Pull ups were done. Squats were sunk into and somehow returned from.
A large amount of sweat hung lazy and heavy between fibers of a poly/cotton blend.
Not the random physical effort of work or even the more calculated risk of effort involved in sports. The premeditated, constant effort of exercise. Purifying. Cathartic.
I'd like to say waited until the last possible day for it to do any good, but as is usually usual, it was probably the day after. Or rather, two days after. If I had started two days ago, I could have avoided yesterday. Maybe.
Yesterday was that day when it just becomes impossible to ignore the fact one is probably somewhere mid-breakdown. Half unraveled. The mental state that can really shake a person...the first 14, 15 times. But experience breeds...what, acceptance? Carelessness?
Sometimes experience just means having one more idea than you had last time, one more thing that might work.
That voice that tells you "Yep, you should probably jump some rope..."
