Yesterday I ran 2 miles without stopping. That was the second time this year I got to that point. My bad knee is getting stronger and I can feel my body growing more confident. That confidence is spilling over into other areas, like an infectious smile, and it’s coloring everything around me.

I’m getting stronger in the gym as well. I can do bicep curls with 40 lbs on my good days. I close my eyes and really get into the exercises. I focus on the mind-muscle connection. I enjoy feeling, really feeling the force of the movements on my muscle fibers. I enjoy every drop of the ache, the agony, the feeling like I can’t go any further, and the surprise and sweet release when I crush my expectations.

I love being breathless and feeling like my heart will beat out of my chest. It’s like a panic attack, but with positive feelings. Sometimes I surprise myself because it feels so good, yet this exact physiological response could have me crippled with dread under different circumstances. So I just laugh. Sometimes I moan. Sometimes I whisper, “fuck.” Sometimes I bite my lip and look at the person across from me.

I go harder when I feel I’m being watched. I like the idea of someone watching me and being turned on by the way I give myself to the workout. The way I tilt my head back. The way I breathe. The way I curse. The way I close my eyes and go.

I’m grateful for the little annoyances in my life for they are part of what fuels me to go harder. I go until I forget why I’m so bothered. I work to ease my worries, and when my worries are plenty, I get sexy and mentally sound.