The body avenging: Somebody's not happy

It's true that no good deed goes unpunished.

And despite my good deeds of the week (strange activities with names like "hip funk abs" and "Gyrokinesis") my body has responded in a less-than-grateful nature.

In fact, my body is altogether peeved. Hostile even. My deltoids have been giving me the cold shoulder since Saturday and I'm fairly certain my quads tried to toss me down the stairs this morning.

There may also be some penance for the gluttonous days gone by. My body was content in its winter slumber - four months of cozy naps and comfort beer - and isn't taking kindly to the unexpected 6 am alarm. It says, "I'm sorry, you want me to what?"

But it's all in the name of good health - a little trial before the triumph.

And if you're transverse abdominus has to hurt - isn't it better to ache in the name of "six pack" rather than "street knifing."

What, me worry?

We've all heard of buyer's remorse.

That unexpected panic that descends just after you've signed on the dotted line.

That overwhelming sense of COMMITMENT - of wondering whether you can really handle what your signature said you could.

I had that moment last night - last night being the eve of Day One: Quest for your Best: Mind, Body & Spirit.

Myself and four other students were set to embark on a 10-week journey of wellness thanks to The Landing and Head Games in Portland. MaineToday.com and Switch magazine are sponsoring the endeavor, which explains how I found myself in the happy position of joining in.

It's a tremendous opportunity - that fact has not escaped me. But what kept me flipping back and forth in bed last night (and rereading the same paragraph of "Little Green Men" and staring blankly at a late-night episode of "Medical Mysteries") was the impending commitment.

It's not that I'm afraid of a little commitment now and then. It's more like a fear of failing to maintain said commitment. Buckling under the pressure. Crashing and burning. Like I just bought a new house and it suddenly occurred to me that I might get canned, not be able to pay the mortgage, get booted by the bank and end up selling painted bottle caps on the street just to afford a cup of joe at the Mobil station.

I could keep thinking those thoughts (and call them "preparedness" or "harsh reality" in effort to make them seem noble). But then, that'd be a pretty damn depressing way to approach it.

Instead, I think the five of us are entering this with a solid "can do" spirit marked by the smallest tinge of "oh my lord, what have I gotten myself into." I suspect that there's some "can't wait to bench press my Volkswagen" going around as well. Or maybe that's just me.