Hit me with your best shot

I always loved Pat Benatar songs.  The song which these lyrics came from are no exception:

Put up your dukes, lets get down to it!
Hit me with your best shot!
Why dont you hit me with your best shot!
Hit me with your best shot!
Fire away!

The heartbreak comes in waves. My last post was the product of one of today’s most pained moments. Thanks to Cynthia, responding to my call for comments with an offering of a punching bag and gloves, I was able to knock out the final wave of the day.

Actually, I do own a punching bag. Arriving home, with not a prayer of getting to the gym, I decided to let off some steam by giving BoBo’s punching bag a 1-2 punch (or 2-hundred). I rushed upstairs to change and invited YaYa to join me. Back in the day, the Family F have had a few punching bag, hula hoop, and jump rope sessions in the garage. YaYa eagerly agreed.

I let YaYa have a round on the bag first while I gave my weighted hula hoop a twirl. We switched after 3 songs. By this point, my muscles were warmed up. I pulled off my fleece and began my attack on the bag.

I was still a bit angry but not at L. Surprisingly, I was no longer mad at myself either. I was simply mad at the situation. And so I hit that bag fiercely, rapidly, and angrily until my arms were shaking from exhaustion. It felt great. I followed with 2 more sets and finished off by skipped rope. Satisfied with my workout, I went inside to relax.

A couple of hours have passed and I still am enjoying the intoxicating satisfaction from my workout. I feel a little invincible too. Go ahead…

Hit me with your best shot!
Fire away!