(source)

Fitness trends change almost as fast as a Forever 21 storefront window and the last few years the use of the phrase “functional fitness” has rivaled the popularity of skinny jeans.  However, unlike skinny jeans, (I’d much rather wear these bell bottoms even if they are high waisted) functional fitness is here to stay like the little black dress.  Why?   It’s how humans were designed to move, unencumbered, in different planes of motion.

So what is functional fitness? In a nutshell, functional fitness is working out in a way that resembles normal everyday activities.  You train in such in a way that makes cleaning out the garage, moving boxes, unloading groceries, and sprinting after a toddler easier.

Unfortunately, the machines that take up the majority of your average gym floor just don’t do the same.  Unlike traditional weight training (training body parts separately), functional training doesn’t isolate body movements and trains the body as a whole.  Isolated movements like hamstring curls don’t often mimic real life situations.  Most strength training machines isolate muscles in a controlled way using seats and back rests to stabilize and support.  Have you have had muscular assistance in the form of a back rest or seat when wrangling a tantrum throwing toddler? Or how often do  you “curl” that heavy bag of dog food you just bought at Costco up into the car? If  you do please make sure to kiss your bicep and wink for me.  ;-)  Hopefully, you are squatting down or “dead lifting” it up into the car.

Functional training most often involves standing on your feet while supporting and stabalizing all your body weight on your own without the help of a machine.  (Strong “core” anyone?) Functional training works the body as a whole and as a result balance, coordination, flexibility, power, agility, and strength improve.  That way when it’s time to hoist that heavy carry on bag (that you didn’t want to pay to check in) into the overhead bin on an airplane you won’t throw out your back.

For fun, I put together a series of photos that show some real life activities I’ve encountered over the last few months and a functional training exercise similar to the real life movement.

Battling a rug.

Battling a rope.

Lifting a paint can off the floor.
(This is when I actually came up with the idea for this post as I was almost falling on my face lifting the can I thought, “hey I’m doing a single leg dead lift”.)

Contralateral Single Leg Deadlift with Kettlebell

Stepping Up a Ladder with a Paint Can

Steps Ups with A Kettlebell

Squatting to Open a Paint Can

Goblet Squat

Carrying a heavy filing cabinet.

Double Kettlebell Rack Walk

Putting Away a Very Heavy Camera Case

Military Press

Shaking a Paint Can

Kettlebell Hot Potato

Certainly, kettlebells are NOT the only functional fitness tool around.
There are many but they just happen to be my favorite.

Where do you want to be in 10 years?  When 2020 hits what do you want to look back and see?

Only one full day left of 2010.

It just seems like yesterday it was “Y2K”.   It just seems like yesterday I gave birth to a baby boy who is now 10 years old.

2000

2010  (Photographer)

Most days, I have peace about what I did with my last 10 years. I didn’t do nearly everything I hoped but I did graduate from college.  I stayed married to an amazing man.  I overcame borderline personality disorder.  I birthed two children. I stood by Brent encouraging him as he left the 9-5 world to start his own business. I graduated from the Second City Conservatory.  I forgave people who hurt me.  Brent and I made a short film.  I listened at times when I wanted to talk.  I wrote a full length screen play that sits on the shelf. :-/  I traveled to India, China, and South Africa assisting Brent in the making of a documentary.  I sort of overcame a fear and let my children play in the ocean. I gained, lost, gained,  lost, and maintained weight.  I became an ASCM certified personal trainer and an RKC.  I tried to teach my kids the importance of helping others. I competed in a few figure competitions.  I occasionally held my tongue.  I started two blogs. I homeschooled my kids full time one year and now homeschool part time.  I began competing in taekwondo.  Sometimes, I even loved when I wanted to hate.  That is, by far, the hardest.

I write this NOT to brag because it did take 10 years.  I write this because I want to reflect on and remember the things I did accomplish and the good choices I did make because there were also a hell of a lot of disappointments, failures, bad choices, selfish moments, hurtful words, bursts of anger, the death of friends, wasted hours on the internet, disease, rejections, hurts, and broken dreams. And I got a minivan. Truth be told, in the beginning of year 2000 I would have never dared to dream the decade would turn around as it did. In year 2000, I was newly married, depressed, and in the middle of an unplanned pregnancy trying to finish college.  I was going to therapy 3x a week just so I wouldn’t jump off a bridge. Literally.

Yet, I did the best I could believing that God had a plan for me.  He did. It may not look how I imagined it but He had a plan.

And…

He still does.  For me and for you.

2011

It’s just around the corner.

It’s a new year and we are moving into the next decade.  In 10 years, I want to look back and see a full life.  A life full of faith. Even if things don’t work out as hoped, I want to say I wasn’t afraid to dream. And I have no intention of passively letting the next 10 years go by and stand on the eve of 2020 wondering what happened. I want to be present. I want to breath in life with every cell of this aging body of mine. There are  10 518 975.3 minutes in the next 20 years.  Ten million, five hundred and eighteen thousand, nine hundred and seventy five minutes.  Each. One. A. Gift.

And I’m going to do my best to treat each one as so.

In the next 10 years, I’m going to….

Breath deeper.
Listen better.
Risk bigger.
Trust greater.
Forgive faster.
Love harder.

Starting now.

Everything else will fall into place.

What about you???   When you look back on the last 10 years are you happy with the choices you made?  Don’t be shy, I’d love to hear your accomplishments be they big or small!  What are your dreams for the future???  Where would you like to be in 10 years?

Happy New Year!!!!

Hugs and High Fives,
Jenn

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This morning I did something spectacular.

I threw away some unreasonable expectations I had of myself.  Some mental clutter.  Some .0002 oz weights.

For years, I have had perfectly straight rows of turquoise post it notes taped to the wall behind my computer monitor.  On them I wrote “steps” that I thought would take me in the direction I wanted to go.  As I was cleaning my desk this morning, I realized some were more paralyzing than motivating.  Others were no longer relevant.   Still others made me feel like a failure.  It’s hard to move forward when you feel overwhelmed and confused.  So one by one, I peeled them from the wall.

Then I crumbled them into a ball…

…and put them in the trash.

I’m not throwing away my goals.  If you have read my blog for any amount of time you know I’m a very goal oriented person.  I will continue to set and reach goals, oh yes I will, but I at the same time I am choosing to allow myself the freedom to “just be”.  I’m giving myself more room to breath.  More room to play.  More room to love.  I’m re-prioritizing.  I’m setting new goals.  I’m wiping the droplets off of the bathroom mirror.  I’m letting go of unreasonable expectations and embracing new possibilities.  I’m moving forward into territories that are a little less charted and I’m excited.

Hugs and High Fives,
Jenn

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This weekend I spent my first weekend alone in my house EVER.  We won’t talk about how old I am and how SCARED I was.  Nor will we talk about how I refused to let anyone on Facebook know I was home alone for fear that I might be friends with a closet creeper.  Ya, never know.

Instead, we’ll talk about how much better Brent and the boys make my life.  Not only did Brent help turn this psycho into a princess his presence also makes me take showers, eat a variety of food, and shut cabinet doors.

So Friday night, Brent and the boys left for a Cub Scout campout.  I decided to stay home so I could sit around all day catch up of some stuff and avoid sleeping on the ground.  After they left Friday night, I went sparring class.  Speaking of sparring, check out the bruise I still have from the tournament.  Thanks MMA Mama.

After sparring class  I decided to get fancy in the kitchen and warmed up a microwave dinner.

Trader Joe’s Paneer Tikka Masala.

The next morning I got up and did my workout.  I FINISHED my second time through Enter The Kettlebell! Strength Secret of The Soviet Supermen (b/c I so want to be a Soviet Superman) by doing clean and press ladders  5X5 with the 12K (26lb) kettlebell.  Once you do 5X5 ladders it’s time to start over with the next size up.

Later, I was feeling SO CREATIVE I decided to make lunch.

Trader Joe’s Paneer Tikka Masala.

After a busy afternoon hanging on the couch with Meow Cow….

….I decided to make dinner.

Trader Joe’s Paneer Tikka Masala.

Meow Cow was not impressed.

This time I got all fancy and sautéed some squash, onions, and garlic in coconut oil to go with it because I do after all have a refrigerator full of veggies from my CSA.

Not only do Brent and the boys keep me from eating frozen food all the time, they also keep me from being the crazy cat lady.  Sort of.

Hugs and High Fives,
Jenn

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Hope you had a happy 4th of July weekend.  I have some fun news!  Our short film played in a local festival here in town.  Here is the trailer.[hana-flv-player video="http://sunnylifemovie.com/SunnyLifeTrailer.flv" width="450" height="250" description="Sunny Life Trailer" player="4" autoload="true" autoplay="false" loop="false" autorewind="true" clickurl="http://sunnylifemovie.com" clicktarget="_blank" /]

We shot this about 3 years ago (before I lost over 20 pounds and with sort hair) in my hometown in Indiana and finally finished the final edit about 8 months ago.  What can I say, I take my time.

Everyone once in a while I like to watch it again even though I’ve seen it at least 30 times (not counting the hours spent editing).  I watch it over and over not because I think it’s some great work of art.  It’s far from that.  I watch it to remind myself of something that I so often forget.  Sunny Life reminds me I can follow through.  That I can commit to something.  That I can persevere.  That I can choose to manage my time well.  We all CAN. Writing and shooting a film, even a short film, is a big job.  Any creative endeavor is a BIG job.  It’s sort of like getting fit.  You have a goal, a vision in your head, and every day you are faced with decisions to make choices that lead up to that goal.  You can write or paint or sew or _____ even when you don’t “feel” like it or you can put it off for tomorrow and stay right where you are.  You can workout today and nourish your body today or you can put it off for tomorrow.  Or the next day.  Or the next.

In general, don’t consider myself a very disciplined person.  Seeing our little film this weekend reminded that I can be if I want to be.  I also remind myself that for over two years, I’ve been consistent, not perfect, with my health and fitness goals.  Now it’s time to channel some of that discipline I’ve learned into other areas of my life. I think my soul needs it.

I’m want to know about you.  What creative outlets do you have?  (I STRONGLY believe EVERYONE is creative whether they believe it or not.) Any good time management tips you could share?  Do you believe in consistency over perfection? How do you feel about “discipline”?  Does it energize or exasperate you?

Hugs and High Fives,
Jenn

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Ten years ago today a brand new chapter of my life was opened.

I gave birth to my son via an emergency c-section.

I was a senior in college and struggling with a severe mental illness
but
with his birth I God birthed a new me.

While life has not been perfect since (it never will be) something magical happened that day in the delivery room.  From that day on, the most severe of my “symptoms” subsided. (Some day I will share more details…maybe.)  Oh I still struggled with depression and “emptiness” from time to time (who doesn’t) and in 2008 I was hit hard with the mallet of depression but the words “check her in”  were never muttered again at least not by a psychologist. Soon after I was off my meds.  I was on my way to wholeness.  Maybe it was a shift in hormones.  Maybe it was a shift in brain chemistry.  Maybe it was the very new and tangible sense of purpose that comes with having a child.  Maybe it was spiritual.  It was probably a combination of all those and other things beyond my understanding.  Whatever it was I’m am grateful.
Thank you, Brent. Thank you, son.  Thank you, God.

Happy Birthday my dear kind creative son.
(Although you don’t read mommy’s blog.)
I doubt you’ll ever know the depths of healing your life brought to my life.
You are worth every fat cell, stretch mark, scar, and so much more.

I love you.

Hugs and High Fives,
Jenn

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Went to the cupboard.
Despite being close to the show.
When she got there
The cupboard should have been bare
Since she has trouble with “NO”.

Here’s a recap of the competition from yesterday.

The competition was an hour away from my house (w/o traffic) in Hollywood so I had decided I’d drive down in the morning which meant I got a good nights sleep in my own bed.  I got up at 6 am put on another coat of tan because I looked more like child who had been playing in the mud under a sprinkler than a “glamourous” figure competitor. After the tan I put on my face and Brent took a few pictures before I headed out to pick up my friend Martha.

Slowly growing some lats.

Only shot where you can see The Abbeys.

We get to to the high school where the show was being held and walk into the “athlete’s meeting”.  Which I  get a kick out of because I’ve never considered myself an “athelete”.  I’m just a girl who is obsessed with nutrition and likes to workout hard.   Right away, I notice that it was a much younger crowd than my last competition.  It’s not that I’m old but 31 and two kids definitely feels different than 20 and no kids when I am about to go onstage in a bikini.

After the meeting, I go backstage to find a space in the dressing room.  Good thing this is a small show because the dressing room is the size of a closet.  I start wishing I had a brown paper bag in case I hyperventilate.  The men check in first and then the women move out to the lobby to check in.  I notice this one beautiful girl who is walking around with her shirt held up with a hair clip to show her GODDESS abs.  Seriously.  I have NEVER seen abs like that on a woman. Miss Abs was also naturally tan, tall, with long exotic dark hair.  I’m sitting there feeling like the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man’s sister and praying that she isn’t in my class.  The check-in lady calls for the novice figure women and Miss Abs stands up.  I mutter something like “Oh %$#&” and immediately start wishing I had stayed out of the peanut butter jar and did a little more cardio.  The peanut butter just didn’t’ seem worth it standing next to Miss Abs.   As she is paying I look down and notice her fancy iphone has picture of herself as the screensaver.  Normally, I’d roll my eyes at such sillyness but in the moment  I’m thinking I’d do the same thing if my tummy looked that good.  In fact, I’d probably put a billboard of myself in my front yard if I had abs like hers.  Damn peanut butter.

So I go back to finish getting ready because of the heat my face looks like my 6 year old did my make up while I was sleeping. Let’s just say I’m a little white (or fair as I call it) and getting to my face to match my body and then stay that way is like trying to freeze a chocolate bar in a hot car.

This is a drug tested competition which means I have to pay $60 to pee in  cup.  The girl gives me the cup and looks at me as if I’m supposed to squat right there in the middle of the dressing room.  Motioning to the one room bathroom I ask, “Can I go in there?”.

“Sure but I have to watch?”, she replies.

What???   She has to watch.  Give me a break.   I don’t even go to the bathroom in front on my husband and I’ve had very little water the past 12 hours.  I sit there and try act like this is no big deal by making stupid jokes.  After 5 or 6 minutes I’m running out small talk and realize God is not going to answer my prayer the way I want.  I let her know I just can’t.  ”We’ll get it later,” she says.  Yipppeeee can’t wait.

As I said this is a small show so it’s moving really fast and before I know it I’m waiting in the wings of the stage to go on.  I’m doing my best to remind myself that I did this to LOSE but seeing the young tight girl next to me is making me feel like Old Mother Hubbard who went to the cupboard too many times.  But the cupboard wasn’t bare.  In fact, the cupboard had Costco size jars of peanut butter.  They call my number and for a minute I think maybe I really am an “athlete” as I imagine sprinting through the auditorium in 5 inch heels.  I survive going onstage although I’m smiling at the judges as if they are holding loaded guns instead of score cards.  Now we have a 3 hour break until the night show.

The really nice thing about this show is the location. Not only is it relatively close to my house but it’s on the corner of Melrose and Fairfax which means Urban Outfitters (Yes I’m 31 and still shop at UO) and a bunch of other fun little stores are within walking distance.  And since it’s Hollywood I don’t feel like freak with my orange runny “tan”, in fact, I feel like I fit in even more.  Martha and I go to Crossroads Trading Company.  It’s a buy-and-sell-used-clothing store and every time I go I find something cute and cheap.   This time it was a pair of Joe’s Jeans in a size 26 (no stretch mind you) for $30.  They were a tight 26  but after walking on the stage next to “I’m 20 with the prefect body” they were just what I needed to give the ego a lift.

After some shopping and pizza we walked back to the high school for the evening show where they hand out the awards.  I’ve drank big glass of green tea so I manage to serve up the urine sample with a side sarcasm.  I seriously considered leaving but decided against mainly because I’ve spent much of my life starting things and not following through.  It’s a pattern I’ve been working really hard to break so I go back to feel like Old Mother Hubbard one more time.

Right before I walk on stage it occurs to me that this is so not me.  I love to dress up just as much as any girl.  I love to feel beautiful just as much as any girl.  But figure competitions are just not my idea of beauty and glamour.  Not that they aren’t glamourous and beautiful in their own right but unlike a lot of girls nothing about the look but the muscle appeals to me.  I have always loved old school retro glamour.  Fair skin, red lips, elegant dresses, and classic hair. That’s the style I’ve always  gravitated towards (aside from my one year as a cheerleader in high school) when I want to feel beautiful. In that brief moment, I don’t think I have ever felt more like I was somebody else in my fake tan, tiny bikini, stripper heels, and over the top make-up.  It was surreal and I started to ask myself some questions but before I could get into my deep nonsense about why I was doing this they called my number.  While I was onstage I suddenly felt a strong sense of peace and okay with who I was despite having logs instead of legs.  I looked for my friend so I could give her a smile and I smiled a real smile at the judges.  They lined us up and started to give hand out placings.  I was fully expecting to hear my number first which means I would have received 4th or last place.  When they called Miss Ab’s (The pictures do NOT do her justice.) number I was really shocked.  Then they called my number for 3rd.  The girl in the green was 2nd.  The girl in the pink was first.  (She was totally adorable btw and very much deserved 1st.)

My friend and I decided we would leave early so I rush backstage eager to put on my new jeans.  I hike them up over my thighs and button them pleased as pie to be wearing a size smaller than before.  Then I squat down to pick something up off the floor and RIIIIIIIP.  No joke.  My new ego inflating jeans just deflated my ego like someone letting go of an unknotted balloon filled with air.  I don’t know wether to laugh or cry.  I decide to choose laughter because there is SO MUCH more to life than the size of the my jeans.  Besides who needs those stupid old Joe’s Jeans when I have The Braxtons.

So how do I really feel about my placing?  You know of course I would have enjoyed winning. Who doesn’t?  I was also a little relieved not be be last but I also sort of feel like I should have been.  I thought Miss Abs looked really great and could tell she had worked hard.  Had I been a judge I think I would have placed me last.  The thing is, it really doesn’t matter all that much to me.  It never has been about winning for me.  When I say I enjoy the preparation more than the show I mean it.  When I say do this to lose I mean it.  I didn’t reach 115 but 119 feels so much better than 126 to me.  I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again I grow and learn from the preparation.   I didn’t give this contest preparation a 100% and that’s not good.  Not because of how I placed but because I ultimately believe in good work ethic, following through 100%, and doing what you say you will do.  Had I won it would have re-enforced my half-azz tendencies.  I’m going to hang my third place plaque in my garage right under my first place plaque NOT to remind me that 100% effort will get you a first but that a 100% effort is so much more satisfying than 90% regardless of the outcome.

So what’s next?  Well I was delighted to step on the scale this morning and see 119 so I should probably work on getting over the scale.  But I digress and I still want to reach my goal of 115.  Honestly, I’m not sure why.  It’s just the number I’ve had in my head as my “perfect” weight which is total crap because perfect is relative and happiness is certainly not found in the bathroom on my scale.   Regardless, I want to follow through and reach my goal even if it didn’t happen on my competition day.  My birthday is 2 months way so that gives me 8 full weeks to lose 4 pounds and buy a pair of  size 26 jeans for my present!!!  Totally doable and healthy.   Although I’m tempted, I’m not going to do any more shows for a while because I think I should practice managing my food and exercise better for my family, myself, and for God.  I want to face some of my struggles with food (binging) head on for no other reason than it’s the healthy thing to do.   I’ve been wanting to learn how to use kettlebells so I’m going to start incorporating those as well.  I’m going to finally buckle down and get my personal training certification instead of talking about it.  I’m going to focus more effort on my taekwondo because at my  last testing I got some good feedback from my instructor and one of the guest judges.  I think it might be more in line with my natural strengths (flexibility and speed) not to mention I’m more comfortable in my uniform than a bikini!

Last but not least, I’ve been working on some changes for this site.  I’m SO EXCITED and I hope that these new changes will encourage and inspire more women to “change the world by choosing health”.  (Yes, I dream big!)  So stayed tuned to be a part of the mission!!

Once again THANK YOU so much for the support (and making it to the end of this long post). I’m grateful for your readership and want you to know how much YOU inspire me.

XOXO
jenn

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I’m really not a pack rat even though I’ve been hanging on to one particular pair of jeans for about 15 years.  The Braxtons.

I bought The Braxtons at a thrift store when I was a teenager because I thought they were cool. They have TRIPLE gold stitching going down the legs and around the back yoke.  Cool designs on the pockets which I’m sure inspired the 7 Jeans designers.   A red little tag with a lion on it peeking out on the hip seam.  Best of all they have this unique little beauty mark on the butt where someone dropped a drop of bleach.

Back in those days I wasn’t brave enough to wear a long skirt to try on pants underneath while hiding behind the racks of musty clothes in thrift shops. These days I have no shame. Or class. So I bought The Braxtons sure they would fit. That wasn’t the case. “I will fit into these someday,” I thought and put them away. Over the next few years I would periodically try them on. No luck. I even took The Braxtons with me to sunny California when I moved for college but still no luck. In fact, over the ensuing years they got smaller and smaller.

Last year I pulled out all my old pants and discovered that just because  the shoe fits doesn’t  necessarily mean you should wear it.   However, The Braxtons were one pair that still didn’t fit.  So while I gave away all my other “keepers” I tenderly folded up The Braxtons and hid them in the back of my closet with hope.  But this morning in a moment of confidence I pulled them out and was overcome with a mix of loving familiarity, hope, triumph, and disgust.  The Braxtons fit!!!   But they looked ridiculous.  Beyond ridiculous.

For years I’ve imagined one day being able to fit in The Braxtons.  I would wear them proudly strutting around in my flip flops.  (Because flip flogs are perfect for strutting.) I imagined people would ask me questions like, “Wear did you get those jeans?? So cool!”. Or make statments like, “Those jeans look really good on you.”  In my dreams.  High waisted jeans are not for short people with thicker thighs and full bums and 8 inch zippers should be illegal.

I’m trying to decided what to do with the Braxtons.

As you can tell I’m rather attached to these old jeans although I’ve worn them once for about 5 minutes.  Why?  The Braxtons symbolize hope to me.  I held onto to them out of belief one day I’d be able to fit into them.  The symbolize determination and perseverance.  It took me 15 years to be able to slide into them instead  nearly passing out from exhaustion trying to hoist them over my thighs.  I’m trying to decide what to do with The Braxtons.  Thinking about taking them to a tailor to see if they can lower the rise and shorten the zipper.  Or maybe I’ll just say screw it and wear them with pride.  In either case I’ve decided to document this day with some very chic photos.

The Braxtons: Moody and Complicated.

The Braxtons: Intense.

The Braxtons: The "cat's" meow.

The Braxtons: Confident and Cool.

Hugs and High Fives,
Jenn

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The other day I decided I wanted to run to my son’s school.  Okay…jog…but run just sounds so much more hardcore.  His school is only (to be exact) 3.4 miles away but it’s almost entirely a gradual uphill run.  For me, this was very difficult.  I set a goal to run it in 30 minutes or less.  I started off feeling fantastic and motivated.   The steepest hill is in the first half mile then it levels out for about the next mile.  No problem.  Then I hit the last 2 miles which is all uphill aside for very small stretch.  By this time I was getting tired, my legs were burning, and my motivation was waning but my pride was not.  You see my hubby was going to meet me at the school to bring us home and I didn’t want him to see me walking on the side of the road.  So for the next two miles I set small goals.  I will make it to that tree.  To that crack in the sidewalk. To that stoplight.  And so on.  When I looked up to the foothills where the schools is located I felt overwhelmed.  I’ll never make it up there.  But when I looked 50 feet ahead at the crumpled Big Gulp on the side of the road I felt like I could make it to the cup.  And I did.  Not in 30 minutes, it took me 40, but I made it all the way to his school without walking except for 30 seconds after a herculean sprint through a traffic light.  I don’t like to wait.  I know, 3.4 miles may not seem like a lot to you but it was for me and it felt really good.  Really good.

Losing weight and, well, life is similar. The big picture is often overwhelming, even discouraging.  How am I ever going to lose x amount of pounds?  Or pay down that credit card?  Or buy a house?  Or finish college?  You can.  If  you take it one pound at a time.  One payment a time.  One month at a time.  Once class at a time.  Heck, I often have to take life one second at a time or I’ll slip into that big black hole of depression.  We are capable of so much more than most of us will give ourselves credit for but I think anxiety over the big picture often cripples the best of intentions.  What in your life seems impossible right now?  What if you lower your gaze a bit and focus on the next step and then the next.  Before you know it you’ll find yourself at the foothills.  Then why not take a big breath and start up the foothills to the mountain top one step at a time.

Hugs & High Fives,
j

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Sprinting is good for you.  Or so I’ve read…

This weekend I decided to go to the local highschool track to get in a sprint workout in hopes of carving my log-like thighs into something more shapely like tubas.  I was disappointed to find the local track surrounded my 8 foot fences and locked.  So I drove to the local city college and found the same thing.  Luckily, I ran into one of the faculty and I asked what’s the deal with all the locks and fences.  She explained “vandals”.  Grrrrrrrrr.  I will refrain from ranting.  Anyway, more determined than ever to do my sprint workout I drove back to the highschool and drove along like MacGyver in my mini-van.  I came across a gate that I thought I could squeeze myself through.  I was right.  ”Ha ha!”, I grunted victoriously.  So I did my workout (see below), stretched, and exhausted I got up to leave.  I walked back to the gate where I had easily slipped through and look at the opening in the gate.  Hmmm…it looked smaller. I had fit through that?  I kneeled down and tried to squeeze through.  No luck.  Great.  I starting getting mad thinking someone tightened the chain while I was working out. Because it’s couldn’t have been my fault.  I quickly became sure someone was thinking “I’ll teach that lady a lesson not to use the track when it’s locked.”  Humph.  I think not.  I held my breath and got one leg, my hips, and chest through but my head started to get stuck.  My defiance quickly turned to “oh crap”.  I backed out again.  This was harder than pushing out a baby.  I thought about climbing the fence but my legs were so exhausted I didn’t think I’d make it.  So I decided one last time to try and squeeze myself through the gate.  I got down really low (near the ground) and tested squeezing my head through, praying to God it wouldn’t get stuck.  Sure enough if my head was two inches from the ground I could shimmy it through.  So I backed out and prepared for my escape.  Slowly, I squeezed one thigh through and then inhaled and shimmied my hips through.  My shoulders and other thigh followed.  Kneeling with my face practically scraping the ground I got my head through.  Then I looked back and  saw my cell phone was just out of arms reach on the other side of the fence.  Not really.  Ha!  But, lemme tell ya, that would have just been simply hysterical.  I stood up and looked around for someone hidden in the bushes laughing their fool head off at me.   For a moment, I even thought about twirling around with my middle fingers up in the air giving a general you-know just in case someone really did tighten the chain and was watching.  But then I decided that’s not the kind of person I want to be so I let my Houdini move speak for itself.  

Anyway here is the workout I did and it was awesome.  (Yes I still say “awesome”.)  My hamstrings are still sore.

Sprint Workout

1 lap (400 m) slow jog
4 laps sprinting the straight ways and walking the curves.  (In other words 100 m  sprint alternating with 100 m walks or thereabouts for a mile.)
1 lap (400 m) slow jog 

For fun I threw in 10 sets of bleachers.  

Stretch

If you don’t have access to a track just go to a park and estimate.  I think this is what I’ll do next time.

xoxo
j