'The Saddle' is a pair of boxing gloves

I got back into Laramie a bit after 4 a.m. Monday, and by 6:30 p.m. Monday, I was back at the gym. Late for the workout, but back all the same.

And for the little bit of workout I got in, I was feeling it pretty acutely this morning.

I'm not a sadist; I don't enjoy pain in the least. But there's a kind of stretched, worked, exerted pain that really does feel good - you know you're pushing yourself again; you know the pain means that you're using muscles that haven't been used in a while; you know that the more you keep it up, the pain will be replaced by toughness, both physical and mental.

And after two weeks of basically slacking it (I put forth some running effort a couple of times and did core work once, but it was still a vacation), I held the plank for the full three minutes last night. I probably won't be able to do it again this week, but I was pretty pleased with myself last night.

Went back tonight. Did the full three minutes of leg lifts without a break.

No. You don't understand.

I did the full three minutes without a break.

I took breaks during almost everything else, but during those soul-crushing, ab-searing leg lifts, I kept it up, sweated it out, gripped my partner's ankles, gasped my way through and finished. And then my legs collapsed on the mat with the rest of me, a sweaty, trembling, gasping puddle on the floor.

Jason was proud. And that made me feel proud. I can do this.

I just need some Advil.