Three minutes of effort,
One to recover,
What could I possibly think about
During that short running time?
It’s not like my mind can drift,
The Curve requires concentration,
I lost my balance and nearly fell once,
But my mind was ruthless in its wandering
So I let it go,
Thinking as much about the music as I could,
The rock GOATS Led Zeppelin,
The jam legends Phish,
Neither of whom I’ve seen,
But both clearly in my mind,
A picture of bands playing instruments
While their anthems blasted through my headphones
And my feet kept a simple pace for all of three minutes at a time.
For a few rounds, Tupac and Cube took over,
My mind locked in on their words,
Appropriate today, just as they were back then,
My mental image was MTV,
Not guys on stage shredding the air with instruments,
But dudes creating an image, crafting a message,
Selling the end of the rock and roll
That I grew up with.
I was into their styles,
The anger, the frustration, the calls to action,
And the minutes rolled on
One stride after another
One song after another,
One drop of sweat after another.

At 4:45 this morning,
Kashmir came on.
It was too dark to be bothered,
So I cranked up the volume,
Leaned back from the steering wheel
And absorbed the heated seat’s warm-up efforts
While the music did its best to wake my tired soul.

Outside, the threats of rain
Sought to sully my workout interest,
Mother Nature could not have known
How I had already cut her out of my morning equation.
Zeppelin had sealed her fate
As I would do battle with the early morning fitness foes
On my terms, not hers.

She cried, letting loose with a torrent,
While I laughed dripping sweat on a rubber floor.
Aching hamstrings and a doubting spirit
Were not to be coddled as the lyric,
“Let me take you there,” kept the swing in my hips
And a swerve in my groove
That took me through to the end.

After coffee and a post workout conversation,
I walked out of the gym and into a cool rain.
With liquid contentment, I loped through the puddles without care.
Back in the truck, wet from sweat and rain,
I turned the key, a random song came on,
But it couldn’t move the needle the way Kashmir had.
The wipers swiped. The day went on.