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March 2, 2000 |
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I hurt. I went kickboxing today. It's the typical 6:40pm class, except
that starting today it will only run until 7:40pm. [Yes! thank
you] There is another class immediately following this one and our
instructor was not able to run the class late. I suppose that I could
simply leave the class when I've had enough, but there are two reasons why
I don't. First, you should really stretch after doing cardio;
it's one of the best things to prevent injury. I can certainly do the
stretches myself, but there isn't a good place to stretch in any of the
surrounding rooms. I could wander upstairs to the stretching room (yes,
they do have a stretching room), but the class is really not that much
longer. Second (and more importantly), it is disrespectful. I know that
if I were teaching a class I would be quite irritated if someone were to
walk out. Thus, I stay through the entire class, even when our instructor
chooses to run it an extra forty minutes. Now for those of you
who are thinking… so what? forty minutes is little more than a sitcom.
To give you a good metric, my normal treadmill routine is only thirty
minutes of cardio. Even now it makes me drenched and tired and cranky,
although only for a little while. We're also not talking forty minutes of
cardio; we're talking forty minutes of additional cardio.
What's after cardio? Weights! I've also noticed that I haven't
been pushing quite as hard on the weights. I should be going 8-14
repetitions to fatigue. I'm torn between two things. Knowing precisely
how important form is (bad form renders the exercise useless) and
increasing resistance. I suppose that I concentrate too much on the form
and wind up increasing the resistance too infrequently, I can routinely do
14 repetitions even after increasing the weights. This means that I'm
still heading in the right direction, but I'm not getting there as quickly
as I could be going. I'm still not where I want to be, but am getting
there steadily. Today, I decided that I wanted to speed up the timetable a
little, so I adjusted the weights accordingly. If get as far as 14
repetitions, I'm not going hard enough.
You know what? I hurt. I'm sure it is going to hurt more tomorrow.
You know what else? I hurt. Both in the sense that I caused pain and that I feel pain.
Shortly after returning from the gym, I called Pam. She's leaving on a trip tomorrow and I wouldn't get to see her this weekend. I'll miss her; I'll have a tough time not seeing her. We talk about a number of things. She's frustrated with her job and she needs to vent. It's important to her, thus it is important to me. I dawned on me that I really know very little about the nature of her business, but I care about her and hate to see her upset. She won't be going to work tomorrow, since her flight is in the afternoon. I asked her if she was packed and ready. Somewhere during our talk about this weekend, she asked, "So are you having a hot date this weekend?"
Now, Pam reads my journal. I know that. She knows I know that. I date other women… granted not very seriously, but I do. She has a tough time reading about the other women, but yet she continues to read. I'm not sure why she does this. I know it sometimes hurts her and that upsets me.
I wasn't sure how to interpret her question. Was it a joke? Did she really want to know if I had plans with another woman this weekend? Was this her attempt to fish out some sort of confirmation of commitment? Maybe it was a mixture of the three. I really didn't know what to think. Somewhere in the midst of my disastrous history with romantic relationships I told myself that I wanted relationships based on honesty. Well, Frank, it is time to put your money where you mouth is. I asked her. I asked her if she really wanted to know. Does she really want to hear words that could potentially hurt her… a lot. Our relationship had been moving pretty quickly; I suppose it is only fitting that a conversation like this came sooner versus later.
It spawned off a series of questions about honesty and disclosure and promises. She really is a wonderful woman; I'm lucky to share her company. She makes me feel wonderful, as if I could almost fly. Inside, I'm floating. The problem is that there's a practical part of me too, one that knows my own shortcomings. It's this part that tells me that I'm in the infatuation stage, and that I don't have my wits about me. I could easily make a dozen promises of exclusivity and commitment and honestly mean them, at least for now. What will they mean when the passion wanes as it inevitably does? Will they have been lies if I meant them when I said them?
I was the one talking during most of this. I knew what this was doing to her. I could softly hear her sniffling and sobbing. It was killing me. I wanted her to say something… anything. She sat there quietly. I hurt her. I didn't want to hurt her. She's special; I care about her. I hated myself for doing it. I didn't want to make empty promises to console her. I was hurting too.
I have to tell myself that I did the right thing… that my relationships should be based on honesty and I'm striving towards that. How could possibly I tell myself that hurting this woman I care so much for is the right thing? Can someone please tell me that? Have I prostituted myself for my ideals? I have to believe that what I did was right. So why is it I hate myself so much? Somebody please explain this to me… Please?
I hurt. It's what I did and it's what I feel.
March 2, 2000