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& Exercise Motivation” begins with a bang as it opens on a classic
demotivating day - cold, grey and rainy.It’s the type of day that is so dreary that it can easily make you want
to stay, if not in bed, at least indoors.But that isn’t where the book takes you, instead it shows you what you
can and will do if you want to succeed at getting fit.
on fitness from fitness guru James Atkinson, is a surprise in that it’s not so
much about how to become fit as it is about how to acquire the motivation
needed to become fit. He doesn’t pull any punches as, with touches of humor, he
leads us along the path of mental training, the key to success.
fitness coach, trainer and bodybuilder, the author knows what he’s talking
about when he discusses the trials of establishing a fitness program. With
powerful examples taken from his own experiences in the military and body
building, he gives vivid examples of how mindset can make or break fitness
a read to get motivated or just keep on hand to reread at the end of a week
long training session to keep yourself motivated for the next.
Note to all you readers: If you like to review the occasional book yourself, check out this week's Choosy Choosy Bookworm link and then scroll down to my books, Suspect Witness and Legacy of Fear. Both books are available for a short time in exchange for an honest review.
Today, I went for a bike ride along the bike path that winds through city following the path of Wascana Creek. It's rather like being in the country when you're still in the city. The bullrushes crowd along the shore of the creek and birds perch on stalks of plants I can't identify. The sky is that crystal clear blue that prairie skies are known for. I pass a couple of women chatting as they walk their dogs, both of them wearing matching pink harnesses - the dogs that is.
The path winds along, I pass another biker and two joggers before I hit the hill that leads to the overpass, taking me over the road that rings around the city. A semi passes and reminds me that all that nature I just left was still part of the city.
The path leads on and just across the road is the cemetery. It's a place where my dad, grandparents and a few aunts and uncles now rest. It's also a place that holds so many stories. There are sad stories here, heartbreakers like the cluster of baby graves. But there's also lives well worn, savoured and enjoyed before a day was called. There's the couple that were 102 and 101 when they called it a day. There's the husband who died in 1965 and the wife who waited fifty years after that to join him. There's the grown daughter who's name is inscribed between that of her parents' and beneath her name is something else, an image of a dog. I'm not sure if the dog was quietly buried there as well, I like to imagine he might have been. A lovely tribute even if a major infraction of cemetery rules.
I walk between a row of headstones, pushing my bike along, making sure that I'm the required distance from the headstones so, as my mother used to say, I don't step on anyone's feet.
In an older section, there's headstones that have been there so long that age and time has begun to dull the inscriptions. And then there there's the imaginative inscriptions:
"He hit a home run."
"Somewhere my love."
There are secrets hidden here, some of them buried forever and maybe too dark to ever be told. And others are just waiting to tell their story. The stories are told in the cryptic words on a headstone, some say not a whole lot and others describe a life.
The graves are a reminder that every life has it's own unique story and oddly, there's inspiration in that.