:~) Quote for the Moment (~:

autismhomerescue11241101

 “Depression cannot hit a moving target.”

  ~Author Unknown

Run, Run, Run! 

Move, Move, Move!

 

 

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Baskesoccaling

Baskesoccaling   [bas-keh-sok-a-ling]

noun

1.   A game played by two players (Mom and Alex) on a rectangular court having a raised basket or goal at each end, points being scored by tossing the ball through the opponent’s basket. 

2.  The ball may also be kicked, thrown out of bounds, or wrestled from the hands of the opponent.  All of these maneuvers score points, although only one player (Alex) knows for certain who is winning. 

3.  A game which involves (but is not limited to) the following:  Tickling, loud joyful screams, occasional bursts of laughter and random, sophisticated wrestling moves designed to take the opponent down.

4.  A game for which only one player (Alex) is certain of the rules, hence a game which one player (Alex) always wins.

5.  The most fun the other player (Mom) has had with her son in the gym.  Ever.

the gym. introductory post.

For those readers of mine who have an evil streak, you may have noticed it has gotten a bit colder where you are.  That’s because hell froze over last night– I joined a gym.  Yes, you read that right.  A real gym.  I’m sure pigs are also flying in some part of the world. 

Why is the idea of my joining a gym so unbelievable?  Because I’m an outdoor runner.  Wind in my hair, new things to look at, lots of distractions to keep me from getting bored.  My favorite workouts are times when I’m “Broadway Musical Running.”  Works like this:  I listen to something like “Hand Jive” from Grease or “Jump, Jive & Wail” and run, turn cartwheels, shake my booty, do fancy jumps on and off park benches.  Yes, you’re reading that right– I generally make a fool out of myself in the name of fitness (and in the name of de-stressing and keeping my sanity).  But hey, who cares?  I’ve got my Ipod on and …what?  whaddyou say?  I can’t hear you laugh anyway.  So there.  Hehe.

But last night I came to the realization that I simply have not been putting in the effort needed to make my physical health a priority.  I knew I had to do something drastic if I’m ever to get back to a happy homeostasis.  I’m not skinny, nor do I want to be.  But I used to be able to do this:

trapeze

and this:

silks

and this:

fire butterfly

And that was all fairly recently– like only two years ago!

Lately my workout routine has consisted of weight lifting 27 bags, trying to catch my breath when the walls come crashing down, or crying hysterically at the drop of a hat.  (Which I guess could be some sort of intense interval training… I don’t know… Anyhow, I digress…)

The point of all this is that I took a leap of faith and joined a gym.  It was okay.  The people were cool.  The place has a pool.  It’s close to my house.  And I didn’t die of shame when the trainer calculated my BMI, smiled and said:

“Wow.”

“Wow, what?”

“Well, you don’t look it– I honestly didn’t think it was gonna be that bad.”

*sigh*

(Disclaimer:  He really was a very nice guy, we had a great conversation & tour, and I did sign the papers with very little “selling” involved anyway.)

So this morning at 6:00 am, while it was still dark outside, I was indoors running and secretly peering around the blank TV screen attached to the treadmill, slyly spying on the other gym members to see if they were real people like me.  Turns out, it was okay.  Maybe I’ll actually enjoy this “crazy new kind of workout”  (insert facetious eye roll here) and you just may be hearing more about this “gym” thing in future posts.

… I wonder how those gym folks would respond to “Broadway Stairmaster” …

fire