Exercise: it's an amusing endeavor. Like a lot of things, it only works if you do it regularly, and yet, there are so many different forms and methods of exercise that every now and then, something can surprise us. Last week, I joined my mom’s exercise class at the tiny but nonetheless well-patronized local gym. Somehow I willingly woke up at 7:45 am (easy compared to the 3:55 am alarm for the flight to Hawaii, but still semi-painful), grabbed a couple of honey-wheat pretzels and a juice box, and made it to class. Hey, with our brilliant track record of being late for oh, everything except business meetings, we were only the second-to-last there. I grabbed an available spot that wasn’t next to mom, but wasn’t front and center either—success.
I was most definitely the only person under 40 years of age in the room of about 15 people. The instructor, Karen, seemed as energetic as any twenty-something, and very much ready to teach “Power Sculpting." My favorite people instantly became the two old men behind me who assisted me to set everything up (weights? Step and risers? Rubber band AND medicine ball? What is this?!) Now, my mom is certainly the slowest runner and hiker in our family (of semi-overachieving varsity high school/college athletes), but she is tough. I winced more than a few times and intentionally hid the fact that I was a division 1 athlete. Somehow, the hour was eventually over.
I learned a few things as I regained a healthy sense of humility. Older people call it a “seat”; not a butt, not an ass, nor a bottom. I have to say, I normally like seats a lot more than I did during that class. Also, I think I now understand why people of older generations hate "obnoxious" (yes, some of it certainly is--Exhibit A: "it's Britney, bitch") top 40 music; that’s what they have to listen to while they do unenjoyable exercises over and over, about seven repetitions and one set past what anyone would “enjoy”. Anyways, I promise I didn’t hate it as much as this rant might suggest. It was nice to complete a decent core and weights workout by 9:30 am. I even decided to do 90 minutes on the elliptical afterwards in place of my “long run;”so what if its Thursday and long runs are supposed to be on Sundays? This rule-follower would allow a lot of rationalization to avoid that famous Florida sunshine for more than an hour. Bonus: I was able to indulge my deep love magazines. You can’t take those on long runs because you’d look really weird if you did and you might even incur something worse than the scars I have from that lovely running-and-texting incident (yes, it happened).
I also found out the other day that my dad recently cracked several ribs waterskiing: another acknowledgment that hey, nobody wants to grow up. I currently embrace this mentality--silly as it may be--by listening to Taylor Swift's “Never Grow Up”, Kenny Chesney's “Young,” and most recently by loudly singing along to the chorus of “Barefoot Blue Jean Night” by Jake Owen (“Never wanna grow up, never wanna slow down”). On the cusp of my 20th birthday, I have definitely put up more than my fair share of whining about “getting old.” I’m kind of worried that my knees are going to be very pissed at me in the next five years or so...just like my boyfriend Jay, I guess. Poor guy: he only has four total knee ligaments although I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to have three in each. I do have to yell at him because he typically doesn't consider this. At least he can keep up with my brisk-to-others-but-normal-to-me walking pace as we pursue as many adventures as possible.
One last musing: it really is great to do ab workouts while watching a movie. Also, I hope the rest of humanity didn’t judge me too much for my yoga and calisthenics stint in the airport yesterday at 8 am. Well anyways, off to run…I’ll shut up now.
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