Jean the Machine

Jean,*

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My quads can reach, when begging
For the end of twelve minute songs.
I love thee to the level of Wednesday's
Obnoxious alarm, long before sun and sanity.
I love thee freely, as lungs strive for air;
I love thee purely, as sweat pours down.
I love thee with a passion put to use
In all my aches, and in my sore buns.
I love thee with a love I seem to lose
At two pm, with endorphin's crash,
Yawns, tears, of all my life! --- and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better Friday morn.




*Jean is my spinning instructor.  According to the boys, she's a BEAST.  I was banned from her class for more than three months by a physical therapist who was convinced I had a bulging disk.  Thanks be to God, the pt was wrong(!!!!!!).  This morning was my first time back in class, and I felt like a kid on the first day of summer vacation.  I predict that tomorrow I will feel like a ninety year-old woman with a sore hiney.