Musing on Muscle Overload.
Just another day at the office.
Ouch.
This morning my trainer, the lovely Beverly Morris said to me, “Are ready for this?”
She said it a few times…hmm.
I did a little goofy white-person dancing thing with my shoulders — which was good because that was the last time I was actual able to feel them. Audio clue for those who have no idea what I’m talking about. Ready to Rumble ~ before I lost all feeling in my upper body.
Dang.
She was moving around fast and throwing weights at me. I tried be a good sport — not complain. Certainly not take the Lord’s name in vain.
I was paying for this for pity’s sake. Unintentional swearing and all.
I’ve come to look forward to these weight sessions after my knee took a direct hit from a torpedo.
But today we were overloading the muscle.
I pay Beverly because she pushes me. There is no way I would do all that to myself in an hour.
Because it’s not all that pleasant.
Most of us need someone to push us — to overload us — so we can grow.
Being pushed is exhausting. And right in the middle of it, it’s really not fun.
Because I believe in God — not like a nice happy higher power — but a true sovereign Being. I got it.
He overloads us. Pushes to places we wouldn’t dare go ourselves. Yet He’s always there making sure the weight doesn’t come crashing down on our skull.
Has He been pushing you lately?
I’m going to stop now…because it hurts to type.
