Body Combat...Yes, Body Combat

Last week one of the 25 year old trainers at my gym invited me to a “body combat” class. I HATE fitness classes. Everything about those classes stresses me out. I always feel like I’m going to be the only one in the class who can’t do something or I’m going to fall off one of those stupid stability balls onto my butt and everybody will point and laugh. So, combining the not-so-fun working out with possible humiliation is seriously not my thing. To add to the issue, the trainer is 25 and is a tiny, tiny little blonde muscle. I think she weighs 95 pounds soaking wet, but somehow still looks like she could bend a freaking crowbar in half. I don’t know her, but my hope is that she is a horrible witch. It’s only fair if you get to look like that.
However, I’ve had a terrible time with my workouts. I’ve been doing them, but I haven’t been working very hard and I have been hating it. The worst part is the hating it. It’s not good to have to do something every day that you dread all day long. So, in an effort to “shake things up”, I decided to give the class a try. Plus, the little hulkish fairy-princess has been hounding me all week and I just grow weary of avoiding her.
Body Combat is misleading. It has nothing to do with hitting or boxing or weapons. Which is probably a good thing since sometimes after a class people want to kill the trainer…that would just make it too easy. It’s basically a circuit training that mixes strength training and cardio. It’s nothing I would do myself, as it includes all these bands, straps, balls and other fitness accoutrements that I think are faddish nonsense. I obviously have a very positive attitude about the class already…
I start worrying about doing (or not doing) the class on Friday. Sunday I plan my entire day around this class and by 5, I’m ready to head out the door. Class starts at 5:30 and the gym is 2 minutes from my house. When I get there, I ask at the front where the hulkish fairy-princess’ class is going to be and they look on the schedule but can’t find it. Sweet!!! Oh wait…there it is….grrrr. I head back there and nobody is in the room, but it’s early so I hang out to stretch and worry. Then, I see her flitting around. I look at the clock; it’s 5:25 and I realize that it’s me and tinkerbell and I’m frightened. She knows I’m at the gym everyday and she is going to try to kill me with her crazy 25 year old fitness voodoo. She walks up and says, it’s just me and you and I was going to cancel but I have to workout anyway, so you can just follow me and do my workout. OH CRAP (that was me, not her)! So she gets her torture toys and we head to the weights area and we workout. I hung with her on just about everything. I really did. I could do everything except one excercise (which I think she made up on the spot to prove her fitness superiority).
Her: 25
Me: 41
Winner: ME! If you’re not first you’re last, baby! Everything is a competition to me and by my calculations I seriously won. Mostly because I realized that I can do more than I thought and it made me look forward to my workout today. She wasn’t a great a trainer but it helped me get out of my funk. I’m even gonna hire her to kick my butt a little more. Truthfully, I’m really not sure I need her, but I sure did like seeing that little girl get red-faced and sweaty…enough that I’m gonna pay to see it again. Hey, she’s sore today, right? Like can’t really walk quite right sore. Yeah, she is…I’m sure of it.

Worked a puzzle

The other day I took this “Real Age” test on the internet. A friend sent me the link and so I took the test in hopes that it would tell me that my mythical “real” age was like 25 even though my chronological age is 41. Here are some things they told me…and how I, at the REAL age of 41, intend to respond to their suggestions
1. To lengthen my life I need to have a dog.
Response: I don’t like dogs. I like other people’s dogs just fine, but I don’t want one. Any additional years added to my life from petting dogs is taken off by the stress of cleaning up pee, poop and dog hair.
2. I don’t eat anywhere near enough vegetables.
Response: I know it and I’m trying. Get off my case. Why didn’t they ask me if I eat burgers and fries…I don’t so I’m thinking no burgers and fries adds the days that not enough vegetables take off.
3. I don’t drink enough milk.
Response: Milk makes my stomach hurt and produces unpleasant bi-products if ya know what I’m sayin’. Everybody will be happier if I don’t drink milk.
4. I don’t exercise like “they” say I should.
Response: I spend 1 hour, 6 out of 7 days a week at the gym and I can wear short skirts…I’m fine, really. I’ll give some thought to “adding another activity”….okay, I’m done, there will be no new activity.
5. Suggested I do puzzles to “keep my brain sharp”
Response: THIS I can do! And that, my friends, is the best thing of the day.
I used to do puzzles all the time. When I was a little kid I loved to do word finds. I then graduated to crosswords. Although, I went back to doing one word find a month in college because my grandmother would cut the monthly word find out of her AARP magazine and send it to me in a care package. (That’s right, I had the best grandmother on the planet.)Then in my later 20’s I started doing logic puzzles. Now, in my 40’s I play on Facebook. Hey, that’s not a puzzle…nope and it ain’t keepin’ the old synapses firing either.
My little quiz had a link to a crossword of the day. Crosswords on the computer ROCK!! You don’t have to erase and you don’t get ink all over your hands (and subsequently your face when you rub your nose)! This is seriously awesome. Now, the bad news, I suck at crossword puzzles now! I can’t think of, well, words. Hell, I had trouble understanding some of the clues and this isn’t the New York Times puzzle or anything. Yep, time to spend a little less time Facebooking and a little more time using my brain.
By the way, my “real” age, according to the quiz, is 39.1.
Response: Whatever.

Saw a little kid who thought she was Wonder Woman

At Costco yesterday I saw a tiny little girl, maybe about 5 years old pushing a basket. It wasn’t a regular sized grocery basket either. It was one of those huge Costco mongo-baskets that, if filled, could feed the hungry children of Ethiopia. She had fallen behind her parents and was pushing that basket at full speed. She couldn’t even reach the handle on the cart! She was pushing it with all her might down the aisle and around the corner. It did not seem to occur to her that the cart was 10 times her size and that she shouldn’t be able to push that big ole thing or that she might hurt herself or any of that. She just did it like it was no big deal. I said to my husband, “ There’s not going to be anything in that kid’s life that she’ll think she can’t do.”
It got me wondering when we turn into the scared adults that we are. Sorry, the scared adult that I am…I won’t speak for you courageous folks! Once upon a time did I just do things without considering that I might fail? I can’t imagine doing that now. I analyze every aspect of every task and assess the failure-factor. If the failure-factor is great, then, hey man, you can forget it…I am not going to even give it a shot. I love nothing better than success and the idea that I might NOT be able to do something and FAIL in FRONT of people is almost terrifying. How did that happen? Whose fault is that? Mine?! No way, quit that crazy talk!
I guess everybody is afraid to fail to some extent. I just wonder when that doubt sets in and why my doubt seems “bigger” than other people’s doubt. This is a large and important issue in my life and really impacts my choices and opportunities. I can’t say that seeing this little girl has magically fixed this crazy-corner of my brain, but next time I’m scared to try something I’m gonna picture that tiny little girl pushing that enormous basket at break-neck speed with the confidence of…well, a five year old Wonder Woman.

Created something

I haven’t been writing my blog because it started to feel like a job. I mean it really did. At first it was something that really did make me feel good about my day, but then I felt this pressure to entertain my small (all be it loyal) readership. My husband said something to me yesterday that was really interesting. He said he would trade his ability to do something well for the ability to create something lasting. I started thinking about that. He was specifically talking about writing a book or music or creating a piece of art. I said, well doesn’t everybody want to be able to create something? It made me think about my blog and why I decided to write it. At first, it was to make me acknowledge the positive things that happen on regular ole days. Now, I think it is the thing that I’m creating. I’m pretty sure my blog wasn’t the kind of lasting “creation” he was talking about but it’s my creation and it’s meaningful to me. So, if you will indulge me, I will begin posting again and shamelessly advertising it via my Facebook page!

Found a new obsession

I’ve probably mentioned before that I’m not a “half-way” person. When I start doing something, I do it. This is why I should never try heroine…not the point of this post, but definitely true. I decide to lose weight; I lose 110 pounds. I decide to start exercising; I have rarely missed a workout in 6 years. I start being a Texas Ranger fan; I almost insist on watching every game (tv or otherwise, I’ll even listen to it on the radio in a pinch). I eat a candy bar; I eat 10 candy bars. I get on Facebook and start playing Bejeweled; I play for hours. You get the picture. It ain’t always healthy, but that’s who I am. I become obsessed/addicted easily. I prefer to call it “focused” or “intense” or “crazy”…wait, not that last one!

My husband decided to create a fantasy baseball league with some friends on Facebook. Because fantasy baseball is a competition, I was all about it. Right away I started researching how to put my players in draft order. You think this would be easy…put the good players and players you want on your team high on the list. However, after much research, I find out that a lot of thought and consideration need to go into this process. Here is something you should know, baseball keeps A LOT of statistics. So, the logical thing for me to do is make a spreadsheet, right? I told you, “crazy”. My husband talked me off the spreadsheet ledge, but I still spent an obscene amount of time doing research. Turns out the good players and players I liked ended up at the top, grrrr. Then, all I had to do was wait for the draft!!!

My team drafted today! I really don’t know what I’m doing, but I can tell you that I have spent a lot of time doing it. I’m shifting players and trying to figure who I want to trade with. I’m looking up stats of players, again. I have set my roster for the whole week to try to maximize my stats or at least I think that’s what I’ve done. Again, I don’t know what I’m doing! It is so exciting!! Why? I have no freaking idea. I think whoever wins gets beer and barbecue or something equally as obtainable without winning the fantasy baseball thingy-ma-jig. But it’s my new obsession and it was totally fun tonight messing with it all. By the way, my team is called the SA Sluggers…what a stupid name! Next year I’m going to do a little research on rockin' fantasy baseball team names! Go Sluggers!!

Planted flowers

I know what you are thinking. That I’m going to wax poetic about the coming of spring and how I absolutely love to garden and watch the efforts of my labor bloom into a colorful little space on earth. Nope. I don’t like to get dirty. Gardening involves dirt, strike one. I don’t like sitting in grass because it makes you get itchy. You have to sit somewhere while you’re digging in the dirt, strike two. I like instant gratification and you have to wait for them to bloom… “wait” isn’t really accurate since you have to do a bunch of work to make sure they bloom, strike three.
So, you would think I wouldn’t bother, but last year, my husband planted two flowering plants in a tiny little area in front of our house and they grew and grew and they were just so pretty. We bought those same flowers the other day and I planted about 18 of them and three gerbera daisies (?) just because I like them. Oh, and the daisies were big and already had flowers on them, score!! It was the best thing I did today because normally I would buy them and then they would sit in the little plastic holders until they died.
I don’t feel any remorse for all the plants I have killed in my life, because my intentions are always good. I always think I’m going to water them and mess with them and maybe even enjoy doing these things. It never happens. It’s just too much work for WAY too little reward. More power to you folks who feel the “kinship” with the earth and all that. Really, I admire the hard work people put into making beautiful gardens and flowerbeds, but I am not ever going to be one of those people. All that being said, they look pretty and I’m looking forward to seeing them bloom…as of 11:15pm, they are still alive. Woohoo!