Love muscle

As an admitted exercise junkie, I’ve done some casual reading about physiology.  From what I understand, to build muscle one has to first sort of tear it apart a bit by straining the tissue. Maybe that’s the “burn” thing Jane Fonda talked about so many years ago.  It seems that when the muscle fibers are ripped or torn they ultimately grow back together stronger than ever.  Do you think the same can be said of romantic relationships?

Now, you know I love to push myself physically and I know that some of my friends think I may be a tad too stringent about my exercise schedule.  I’ll admit that there is a certain obsessive quality to my workout regimen, but ultimately I love the satisfaction of knowing that my body and my mind are working in concert to achieve something that may have once been unreachable.  I honestly like that feeling of having exhausted my muscles, the tenderness that comes as a  reminder of the previous day’s exertions.  It feels good.

The emotional stretch, though?  The sensation of having been pulled apart and put back together?  That really hurts.  I won’t ever say it isn’t worth the efforts expended, and I certainly can accept the residual ache caused by a misunderstanding or disagreement, but I much prefer self inflicted physical discomfort to overwrought emotions.  Ultimately, though, I believe that our muscles are remarkably capable of being woven back together, thread by thread, to create something stronger than what we originally possessed.

I don’t plan for any of my muscles to atrophy from lack of use.