So tomorrow I turn 35 years old. [Hey, pick up your jaw.]
I'm trying to think of something profound to share in this post, but all I can think of describing is how good my life is right now. I am happy. The j.o.b. is the best j.o.b. I've had. Almost all my family is close by. And best of all, I feel healthier than I've ever felt before.
So tomorrow I'm going to celebrate my birthday with my family by having a fabulous dinner at one of my favorite restaurants. Then we're going cosmic bowling. Perhaps I can show them all the dance moves I learned at Zumba. (Oh, yeeeah.)
And then.
I'm going to extend my birthday to Saturday by watching Bruno at the theater.
I know; I'm so WILD. ;)
Special thanks to you, 34.
7.09.2009
7.04.2009
6.28.2009
6.25.2009
Project Nephew
6.11.2009
Dear Body
I was going to write a long post complaining about how some of the fitness blogs I read are starting to disgust me, but I realized I might just fall into that category of body-self-loathing-and-whining. Most of the posts I have read lately are written by women who think their bodies are absolutely repulsive when they only weigh 150 pounds.
150 pounds! That's a wonderful weight to be! I bet.
From here on out, I will not speak ill of my body shape or size, but be happy that I am able to walk, lift, jump, dance, shake, stretch, pedal, flex, youKNOWwhatimean.
You silly women out there, let's just stop it.
Dear Body, I realize it is taking us longer than we think to move that number on the scale to the left, but I accept you. I accept the healthiness that is becoming you and the energy you produce throughout the day. So thanks; let's keep doing what we're doing. Without the whining.
150 pounds! That's a wonderful weight to be! I bet.
From here on out, I will not speak ill of my body shape or size, but be happy that I am able to walk, lift, jump, dance, shake, stretch, pedal, flex, youKNOWwhatimean.
You silly women out there, let's just stop it.
Dear Body, I realize it is taking us longer than we think to move that number on the scale to the left, but I accept you. I accept the healthiness that is becoming you and the energy you produce throughout the day. So thanks; let's keep doing what we're doing. Without the whining.
5.07.2009
BodyStep on!
Are you tired of my exercise-themed posts? Well, please endure one more. Writing about my workouts encourages me.
Today I went to BodyStep for the first time. This is the kind of class that uses a stepper and allows you to use as many risers as you'd like. The exercise takes a lot of coordination, but it's achievable. I almost fell/tripped over my feet about three times, but no injuries! I did sweat buckets which always makes me feel productive.
After an hour of BodyStep, I did an hour of Zumba--back to back!
I. Am. Exhausted. And in pain. But a good kind of pain. What hurts most are my hips, calves, and obliques. (Awwww, look at me writing about my obliques.) This is all thanks to not only today's workout, but all that damn sprinting I did at Sports Conditioning.
I plan to attend more BodyStep classes because myhips entire body needs it.
Today I went to BodyStep for the first time. This is the kind of class that uses a stepper and allows you to use as many risers as you'd like. The exercise takes a lot of coordination, but it's achievable. I almost fell/tripped over my feet about three times, but no injuries! I did sweat buckets which always makes me feel productive.
After an hour of BodyStep, I did an hour of Zumba--back to back!
I. Am. Exhausted. And in pain. But a good kind of pain. What hurts most are my hips, calves, and obliques. (Awwww, look at me writing about my obliques.) This is all thanks to not only today's workout, but all that damn sprinting I did at Sports Conditioning.
I plan to attend more BodyStep classes because my
5.05.2009
Sports conditioning commentary
Sports conditioning. Sports. Conditioning. I went to this gym class today for the first time. And OMG, even the fats between my thighs and my ass hurt like a mo'fo.
I was thisclose to walking out of the class after the first five minutes, but my inner warrior encouraged me to stick it out. I really had no idea what to expect except for the little description provided on the schedule.
People. I had to run, sprint, skip, jog backwards, do push-ups and planks, jump on a stepper, need I say MORE? Nonstop! Plus I had to do it in a team of three--imagine me partnering up with two complete strangers who have no idea of my fitness level (if I even have one) and who look in tip-top shape to me. If you are brave enough to try this workout, drag along two of your close friends/relatives who understand your fitness level. Suffer with those you love, I say. My two teammates included one male and one female.
I had to apologize that I needed to take a break during the FREAKIN' LONG sprint-fest. At first they were sure, sure, no problem. The guy clapped and encouraged me each time I finished my leg of the sprint, and she clapped a few times too. Towards the end of the class, I sensed she felt I was not worthy to be on the team, when really, who the fuck is counting? Do my leg for me, bitch.
Perhaps I would exude the same vibe as she. Perhaps the scowl on her face was just an expression of pain. Eh, maybe I'm not a team player. All I know is that if I'm ever in that position where someone on my team is not as fit as I, then I will be super-friendly and smile through the pain.
I achingly stumbled back to my car with five facts.
1. I need to buy sports bras. Pronto.
2. I cannot attend this class again until my fitness level improves. Dramatically.
3. I will attend this class.
4. Men are damn awesome to have on your team.
5. Haha, do my leg for me, bitch.
I was thisclose to walking out of the class after the first five minutes, but my inner warrior encouraged me to stick it out. I really had no idea what to expect except for the little description provided on the schedule.
People. I had to run, sprint, skip, jog backwards, do push-ups and planks, jump on a stepper, need I say MORE? Nonstop! Plus I had to do it in a team of three--imagine me partnering up with two complete strangers who have no idea of my fitness level (if I even have one) and who look in tip-top shape to me. If you are brave enough to try this workout, drag along two of your close friends/relatives who understand your fitness level. Suffer with those you love, I say. My two teammates included one male and one female.
I had to apologize that I needed to take a break during the FREAKIN' LONG sprint-fest. At first they were sure, sure, no problem. The guy clapped and encouraged me each time I finished my leg of the sprint, and she clapped a few times too. Towards the end of the class, I sensed she felt I was not worthy to be on the team, when really, who the fuck is counting? Do my leg for me, bitch.
Perhaps I would exude the same vibe as she. Perhaps the scowl on her face was just an expression of pain. Eh, maybe I'm not a team player. All I know is that if I'm ever in that position where someone on my team is not as fit as I, then I will be super-friendly and smile through the pain.
I achingly stumbled back to my car with five facts.
1. I need to buy sports bras. Pronto.
2. I cannot attend this class again until my fitness level improves. Dramatically.
3. I will attend this class.
4. Men are damn awesome to have on your team.
5. Haha, do my leg for me, bitch.
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