With the changes in my health come lifestyle changes: food, habbits, abilities, and fitness. I've had to make some adjustments and although I grumble a little louder at 5am, I'm doing it. Thankfully, I've been rewarded. My body shape is shifting and I was frightened by a couple of nice muscles where previously there'd been none. Now I give that little lip bite sideways grin and keep on moving. I WILL get there but certainly with a lack of grace.
A little before 5am my dogs begin to play monkey in the middle with my head if by some miracle I'm not already up. If THAT'S the case they begin to "hunt"; jumping on all the beds and chasing each other until I rush in and hiss at them to shut the hell up. I then get breakfast ready and take my jaunt with them for potty time. This accomplished and "cookies" dealt, I slip into my cookie/yoga pants (they ARE the best) and journey into the bowels of Haedes for a few quality minutes with the devil in carnate.
Depending on the day:
I may lift weights until I lose dexterity in my fingers and my elbows tremble. I've been stupid enough to give myself more than one fat lip and COUNTLESS bruises from overhead tricep doowaps and cross body curls. The best ones are the ones where you lie down and push the weights over your head and across your body. I am either going to crack my ribs or break my face. If I disappear from my blog too long, your best bet is the face.
I perform what COULD be perceived by some as erotic yoga if I weren't constantly dropping the "f-bomb" and making the face of someone whose been eating rare cave spiders for a week or two. I'm sorry but my little arms will not wrap around my neck, wind down my spine and through my legs to clasp together. I can't lick my elbow either. ..and neither can you so there! I don't want to fold one leg around the other, put my hands behind my back and turn my spine. No. Nor do I want to stand on my head...in any position for any reason. Stupid yoga. It's why I prefer to call them cookie pants. I'm better suited to make cookies in them than "shoulder stand to plough" and "crane". Anyway, I feel better after making cookies than crying out because of " Twisting half moon". I look hilarious doing it though, I know it. (yoga, not cookies)
OR I'm jumping around kicking the crap out of my "opponent" Yep I am the proud owner of the coveted "invisible belt" in the art of Kenpo kickboxing. These are my favorites. I'm no better at them than yoga but I feel like Tessa Jersey Patrol;a definite downgrade from Walker Texas Ranger, nothing for Chuck Norris to worry about. Considering my sense of direction? I'd have to FIND the bad guys before I could kick their butts. Odds are slim as most of you know.
The best one is when I use....the bands. (bom-bom BOMMMM) YES. It is a giant resistance band with handles. I have snapped myself in the stomach, head, shins...you name it, I've mangled it. So the name is appropriate. I resist the bands. I don't know how I haven't lost any teeth with that stupid thing. Forget waterboard torture, let's have em do some bicep work with my little band.
>Wha-peech< "OWWWWW IGIVEUPIGIVEUP" "No way Buddy. You've got twenty more on the other side! Now PULL!" "Auuuuughhh! I wish death..." "Keep talking and you'll get to do some iso lunges and a few dead lift squats! MOVE!!!!" I guess it doesn't work like that in GITMO now...ask Pelosi. So this is it, I don't go to the gym. I am a hazard to anyone and most things around me when I work out. I prefer to be an idiot very early in the morning even before the sun can see me. I fumble around for sixty to ninety minutes a day and take a light one in the afternoon (just to work out the kinks from the day so I don't attempt to devour my children when they get off the bus: "Hi Mommy we're.--" "ROOOOOAARR. Chomp." "Ohhhh Ben. I'll miss you. Can I have his..." "Grrrrr" "I have some homework to do in Mexico. I'll come back. Love you Mommy." >hiccup<
Namaste.
