I'll Sleep When I'm Dead

Illumination, Insight and Solution

I have mentioned on many occasions that one of the primary reasons why I do this head banging discipline every day is to work my way through complex issues. In the hope, of course, of coming out the other end of the tunnel with a touch more clarity. Or illumination, or insight or even, dare I say, a legitimate solution to the issue du jour. I will confess that it does’t always work. At least not in the intended manner, BUT, almost ALWAYS I come away from the effort a touch calmer and with a hand-full of additional information. So while I would love to go three-for-three (illumination, insight and solution) every game, I will take two-for-three as next best result. Every game of the week and in Sunday’s doubleheader. 

With that as intro here is the issue of the day that I need to work through before I call the suicide hotline. 

Today, knowing full well it was going to be a demanding morning, I tried to hit the ground running after the daily breath-counting ritual, that duo itself a testy paradox, and headed up the street to sub for the 0530 spin class. We kicked serious fanny before the sun rose and I then drove over to lift with Junior before he showered, ate and caught the bus to school. Then it was back to the club for my regular 0845 class. Two spin classes and a weight session later I was sitting in the lobby talking with a client when the group fitness coordinator asks me if I had a minute to chat. Sure.

She goes on to tell me that, as expected, the move from early to mid-morning sessions has resulted in some feedback from the members. Oh? I ask innocently, already knowing what the news will be. 

Yes, she says, and don’t get me wrong, you are awesome (I cringe) but I wanted to pass the comments along to you. OK. I can, if I so choose, tell her exactly what the comments are because I have heard them all a thousand times before, but I feign interest and ask her to continue. 

Seems some people think you are too aggressive, too edgy and too demanding. I want to puke, but I ask her, politely, to please continue, that is, assuming there is more. And it seems there is. 

And you talk too much. You are constantly telling them about form, function, motivation, inspiration, history, philosophy, theology, magic, and music. Someone even said you once quoted somebody named Goethe. I smile. Anything else, no comments on the volume of my music? Well yeah that too, but everybody likes it when you play that Pink song. Cool. 

I ask if that is it and she replies to the affirmative. She then backs away looking for a conversational exit and finally says that although you are going to be you, and 99% of the members know that, maybe you could soften it up a little? 

Soften it up a little? Yea, you know, ease up some. Ease up some? Yeah, shouldn’t be that hard, right? 

Piece of cake I say, grinning like a lubricated loon. 

Sure I’ll ease up some. 

And I’ll sleep when I’m dead.