Trust the hips.

Shakira wasn’t wrong: they don’t lie.

I don’t trust mine.

Means I hunch my shoulders when I’m doing kettlebell cleans.

Trying to chase the weight.

Leverage it into place.

If I just stand up straight instead?

The bell lands where it’s supposed to.

It’s weightless until it’s in the rack

Still.

I hunch.

Not trusting that I’ve done the work.

That I’m where I’m supposed to be in time.

In space.

In life.