~° Tint's posts with tag: workout

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Blog EntryExercise is bad for youApr 23, '08 4:00 PM
for everyone
I have proved it conclusively.


As some of you know, I have been trying to get fit... to my downfall, of course... quite literally. Trouble is, I tend to tackle things with gusto. If there's a new anything to be learnt, I climb in, boots and all and learn it. If I take on a new hobby, I never start small. I jump in at the deep end and either sink or swim. I have always held to the belief that if you're going to do something, do it with gusto and with gusto is the way I go.... down.

I have been feeling rather energetic. Actually, that is a lie. I have not been particularly energetic, as I've been sleeping badly, but, thanks to the exercise I have been getting, when I have been on the move, I have not been as out of breath as before. Last night, we needed some bread to go with our soup. I offered to dash up to the bakery, two blocks away. The air was cool... lovely... so I skipped out of the yard and prepared to run up. I had hardly gone half a block, when I found myself airborne.

You know that old expression, "The bigger they are the harder they fall"? As I was telling a friend, I came down like a felled Redwood. We live on a very busy road, a thoroughfare between two major roads. This was right in the heart of peak hour. Need an audience? I will find one. I think the ground vibrations stopped traffic. One biker pulled up next to me and asked if I need the hospital. It is worthy of note here that he didn't get off his bike to help me up from my nose-to-the-ground position. "No, no," I assured him, wishing the ground would do its job and swallow me up. After all, it must have been a huge hole in the ground to make me trip like that, right? Another one of the milling passers by helped me to my feat (deliberate typo... that was a Feat). Thank goodness for the dark. They couldn't see my red face.

Now, I'm weird. I usually, at this point, try to pretend nothing has happened, so I took a few wonky steps in the direction of the bakery. Then I looked up and saw the crowd in the doorway of the pub across the road and the people buzzing in and out of the bakery further ahead. Memories of the queues at this time of the night and the curiosity of the natives made me back off. No way could I face that, so I hobbled home.

At this point, Tat took over as chief nurse in residence. Jorge went to the bakery to fetch some bread. On his return, "Did you trip over that crack in the sidewalk outside so-and-so's house?"  Poor delusional man. No matter how much I told him it was a crater, he just missed the point entirely. Truth is, it doesn't take more than a hairline crack to topple this biped. I think I will just stick to walking in future. We all know I can't run to save my life *sigh*

Blog EntryRandom sillinessApr 14, '08 8:36 PM
for everyone
Ok, no smarmy comments about the photo! It is disgusting. I was lamenting to Tat last night that I shied away from cameras for so many years, we have few photos of the two of us having any form of fun or bonding time. Add to that the fact that I'm usually the one behind the camera.



A few days ago, Tat was going through her wardrobe, sorting the clothes between keepers, donation, and tossing. She unearthed her old swimming cap and goggles (both regulation swimming items here).... if you can find a swimming pool. We were already laughing over the trying on of some really old out-grown clothes. I took the cap and goggles and... well.... Tat decided it was photo-worthy. I look gross, but the memories are good : )

Last night, Tat and I decided we were going to try Pilates. We survived the first 14 minutes, with me huffing and puffing, red faced, falling all over the show (I have no balance whatsoever and even less flexibility), but yes, we survived.... Tat survived rather more gracefully than I did.  Our torturer then told us to lie down on a mat. Well... we only have one mat between the two of us. I had a good idea of what was coming next, so I said.... let's turn it sideways and share. Good idea! Then we had the problem of how to watch the screen while prostrating ourselves on the floor. We decided to watch first, then, if humanly possible, do the movement, while listening to her instructions. The space on the floor here barely fit the two of us side by side. The computer screen way up there out of sight. The %*$# woman wanted us to lift our heads and shoulders off the floor, and while keeping those in the air, we had to lift our legs... one directly in front and the other up in the air... straight too, mind you! She then started scissoring her legs, still with her shoulders off the ground, both legs straight as pins and never touching the ground. She knocked herself on the nose with her shins every time!! Methinks she wasn't made of plain ol' rubber, but of silicone! Ok, so we lose nothing by trying. I have no idea what happened next. Tat was on the floor on her part of the mat. I looked out the window and said, "Omg, the neighbour's window is open!" Tat looked over her knees, which were, by now, in the air (she is so good!). I just packed up laughing.... and laughed and laughed. My belly ached, I laughed so hard. Tat started laughing. The in-the-air legs were soon banished. There was no helping it. I had the giggles... no... I had the *caps lock* giggles. The tears were streaming. Tat kept stopping laughing and giving me a serious look to stop me laughing. It made me laugh harder. It was as though a mechanism was triggered that couldn't be untriggered. We never did get further into that workout. Needless to say, the idea of Pilates has been scrapped until I can learn to stand on one leg and wrap the other around my head....

Tonight, we'll do a workout called, "The hotpants workout." Makes you wonder, huh? It is a dance workout. You work out, rather vigorously, while dancing. There is a guy doing it with 4 slinky looking women around him. Good cardio stuff that, and fun. Now I just need to figure out which is my left leg and which is my right. We should get this right... right? Hey... I'm working out... what more do they want? 

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