Be Still and Know...

About a month ago, I was at the gym—on my usual, seemingly unattainable quest for a thinner body. I was on a roll. Eliptical—10mph—30 minutes—move to the treadmill—jog at 6.0 for 10 minutes—move to the quadriceps machine—keep up the pace—15 reps, then a new machine quickly. My eye zoned in on the one machine I love the most: the incline leg press.

Let me explain my affinity for the leg press. First of all, I’m great at it. I feel like a beast… A well-oiled machine… A downright weightlifting Goddess when I am seated in this machine, legs at a 90 degree angle, feet pushing against the flat metal square, buttocks-quads-hams-calves all working to muscle up 280 pounds of iron glory.

So, as I finish my first set at the quadriceps station, I begin eyeballing the leg press. 5-4-3—OH DEAR…I notice that a man swoops in on my favorite station, the station I am headed to next. “No problem…keep up the pace…move quickly to the hamstring station, THEN head to leg press,” my inner thin voice tells me. I settle in quickly to work my hams, and I look to gauge when the leg-press-interloper might be finished.

When I glance over, I notice that he is just sitting there, reclining. He has yet to lift his feet to the smooth metal platform and PUSH. He is just sitting. Juuuuuuuussstt sit-ting. I watch his mountain of a beer belly heave up and down—from what effort I know NOT, since he is NOT working. He is JUST SITTING there. He turns to his right a bit. An effort to get up? Nope. An effort to get more comfortable on his napping machine. He continues to sit there, cozily cuddled into a pseudo-fetal position.

By this point, I’ve decided to go back to work my second set of quadriceps. On my way to the quad machine, I almost wonder if I should go check on him. He looks a little older…am I witnessing a heart attack before my eyes? Then he decides to begin his work. He does a few sit-ups, using the handle atop the leg-press machine to lift himself each time. “Don’t judge, Corrie,” I tell myself. But then I see him lie back and settle into his formerly comfy position.

It is at this point that I decide I will dedicate an entire blog to making fun of this slovenly creature, napping grotesquely on my favorite machine. I grab my iPhone (luckily it’s with me for musical inspiration), and I snap a picture of him—just to prove to all you readers that I’m not exaggerating. He really sat in this position long enough for me to finish four sets on two machines AND take pictures of the fiasco that was going down.

After I had finished my sets and snapped his picture, I thought it prudent to let you all see my increasing frustration. I turn the camera, and take a few shots of my face, now screwed into a grimace (as seen at beginning of this post). On my last shot, I notice a body-builder type from the corner of my eye; apparently, he had been watching me take each picture—of the slob, of me, of the whole ordeal. The stranger smiled at me, shaking his head in sympathy—having noticed and understood where my frustration began.

The crazy part is, I smiled back and instantly felt bad—even a little embarrassed. Perhaps that old man on MY machine needed a rest. Maybe he had pushed his limit. I didn’t see where he was before he perched on my dear machine; perhaps he worked harder today than days before. And who am I to judge? I started thinking about times when it felt so great to stretch and lie still after a workout.

The more I marinated on the situation, I found there could be a great “It builds character” lesson to learn here. In my life of hustle and bustle—of recent heart wrenching moves and changes—I often forget to be still. In the analogy of workouts, I stay on the treadmill (doing what I have to do) and often skip enjoying the stillness after a sweat-fest. I was reminded that day of one of my favorite Bible verses, “Be still and know that I am God.” Occasionally, we are called to be still. I decided at that moment, that some stillness was just what I need in my life.

And that’s exactly what I got, right after I finished 3 sets on my very favorite machine.