Daydreaming nerd

In February I started taking my cardiovascular health more seriously (because OLD and FAT), and started running and doing high-intensity workouts on a regular basis. (Ironically, I had my first serious cardiovascular scare last month, which is part of the reason I've been so quiet lately. Girlfriend has been STRESSED. I am totally fine, nothing serious happened. Had something called a pericardial effusion, water on the heart, which was causing me a lot of pain and discomfort, likely caused by an idiopathic infection called pericarditis. I ended up in the ER one day because I thought I was maybe having a heart attack. It was found on CT and completely cleared up by a course of steroids, and I've had alllll the tests and officially have a super healthy ticker. YAY!) Anyway, I know lots and lots and LOTS of people claim to enjoy running, but I think they *might* be lying. There are certainly aspects of it I enjoy, like the solitude and meeting and exceeding goals and stuff, but generally I find it mind-numbingly boring. I listen to different podcasts or whatever to try and spice it up, and plan different routes and locations, but naawww. Still bored. So I frequently turn to the old stand-by workout of choice in this house, the kitchen dance party with the boom-cracking water-proof ear buds on the "make 'em bleed" setting. 

I have carefully cultivated several workout playlists that are all about 45 minutes long, and dancing to these playlists is so fun that I can never believe it when the time is up. Like, I SMILE the whole time. I can't do this when running because I have to run on the beat which is crazy-making and I probably would look like a crazy person with that giant grin on my face. But in the privacy of my big kitchen, I can be as absolutely stupid-looking as I want, y'all. And I am. Because fuck it. 

Music typically has two effects on me. It either captures me in its structure, captivating me with its layers and movement and emotion, and I can think of nothing else while it plays, OR it's something I'm so familiar with that it just feels like an internal drive that moves my limbs and lets my brain wander. The latter is the kind of music I workout to, because I have the most awesome daydreams while I do it. As a kid, I would listen to music over and over, constructing elaborate daydreams around it, whether I was on stage somewhere (my parents' coffee table, ha) performing the role of Annie (of course), or was a Solid Gold dancer/choreographer, or a in my own music video or something. It would entertain me for hours. I have not outgrown this at all, it seems. With this morning's dance party, I was dancing on stage with the Sex Pistols, I was Belinda Carlyle with a neon off-shoulder sweatshirt on, and I was the instructor of a dance party workout class for bored 40-somethings called Put on Your Dance Pants. That last one is recurrent, because with all of the Zumba-type workout class crazes out there, wouldn't there be a market for people like me who still want to dance til their faces hurt to Fugazi or Talk Talk? I mean, I'd love a "class" that felt more like a party and had no judgement or real form to it, made me smile and laugh the whole time, and maybe ended with a cold beer. I'm probably not alone.

Daydreaming, especially in a world where reality is a cold, hard bitch that makes me cry for humanity on a far too regular basis lately, is such a gift. Coupled with exercise, it might be the best stress-reliever there is, and feeling like a dumb kid again whenever I can is DA BEST.