I take a class at the gym called Pound. You use a couple of bright green plastic sort-of-drumsticks as you exercise, hitting them together or on the floor as you do various moves. Let me tell you, you do a lot of squats in this class and your legs will hurt. But the sound of the sticks hitting is a great motivator.
It’s also hard on the sticks. They break. Not every class or even every week, but it happens. And in our gym when they do it’s something to be commemorated. I’ve been hoping I’d someday join that club, and today, I did. One stick, snapped in half! Was I surprised.
Following tradition, the instructor signed my stick parts and I took them home.
She put my name, the date, and even the song it broke on. Hey, I know it’s one of those things – “you had to be there” – but it put a smile on my face.