Gym (Not So) Dandy

I don’t have to tell anyone who is reading this about the lengths women will go to in order to look fabulous. We allow specialty store employees in lab coats armed with menacing looking piercing guns to shoot metal studs into our earlobes. We endure that part of a pedicure where some petite soft spoken young girl, who looks like she’d cup a fly in her hands and take it outside and release it rather than swat and kill it, takes a pumice stone to the ticklish, tender bottom part of our feet and tortures us for a prolonged period of time. We walk around in heels so high they’re likely to result in a sprained ankle or a trip to the podiatrist’s office. We cram ourselves into undergarments whose names rhyme with tanks, so as to create a smoother line under our skirts and slacks and we let strangers slather us in hot wax, so as to better adhere the cloth strips they plan to violently rip off of us the moment the wax cools.

This is all amateur stuff, however, compared to the”be all end all” of pain inducing regimens we subject ourselves to in our never ending quest to look more attractive. Of course I’m referring to the “E” word, the bane of our collective existence…. exercise. I have heard rumors of women who actually like contorting their bodies into shapes God never intended them to be in. I have heard of gals who enjoy running and who smile gleefully while employing some Draconian looking work out apparatus likely purchased during a 2:00 am infomercial.

I am not one of them!

I ran track in high school, but only because of peer pressure. Thanks a lot, Laura and Bonny! In those days, I could (and often did) consume so impressive a quantity of calories in a single day, it would’ve sustained an entire village for a fortnight.

The Altamonte Mall once contained a restaurant called Farrell’s. Farrell’s was Friendly's on Ritalin – a loud, amusing, turn of the century - inspired ice cream parlor extraordinaire and a regular hangout for me and my high school pals. One of the things we liked to eat there was called The Zoo. I can’t remember exactly what was in The Zoo, but I know it was delivered with great fanfare – in what I believe was a large galvanized metal tub. In addition to mounds of ice cream, whipped cream, cherries and every topping imaginable, The Zoo contained little plastic animal figurines. It was a site to behold! If memory serves, I once ate the better part of a Zoo by myself and was, applauded by the wait staff. Remarkably, I never gained weight… that is until recently.

I am convinced that I suffer from a still undiscovered medical condition known as DCAS (delayed calorie absorption syndrome). I ate ridiculous quantities of cheeseburgers, McDonald’s fries, apple pies, pizza, nachos, Oreo ice cream and donuts in my teen years and my metabolism reacts as if I ate them yesterday.

Attempting to stay in single digit sizes now requires the efforts of a veritable army of individuals:

1) Friends who invite me to walk, play tennis, line dance, bike and fold and twist myself into shapes I haven’t paid much attention to since high school geometry… (Thank you, Cindy, Pam, Janet, Terri, Cathy, Lisa and Nancy!)

2) Weight Watchers leaders & one time fellow group members… (Thank you, Susan, Ericka, Betsy, Carissa and Alexis! Actually, those girls are my friends too! )

3) Yoga instructors… (Thank you Shannon & Ariel! Their Buddha Boot camp, a FREE class they team teach at their wonderful Lake Mary gym, Fusion Fitness http://www.fusionfitnessusa.com/, every Wednesday night, is keeping me from looking like you know who.

Side note : A friend, who shall remain nameless, claims to have spent close to $100 between masseuse and chiropractor trying to recover from this free yoga class. Side note to side note: The class is actually amazing. I think this friend may just hate exercising even more than I do.

Obvious Question:  Perhaps you are wondering why I am I not the Fusion Fitness Groupie in addition to being the Hot Heads Groupie, since I’m a such a big fan of Shannon, Ariel and the gym. (Well, I’m not really a big Fusion Fitness fan. At least I like to think I'm not.  I’m more of a normal sized fan trying to keep from becoming a big fan.) The answer: At Hot Heads, they offer me a chair when I drop by. At Fusion Fitness, they encourage me to sit on the floor, grab my toes and touch my nose to my knees.

I do like this gym though, and since I tend to be rather vocal about the things I appreciate, I’ll take a quick minute and tell you some of the reasons why: In addition to offering the free class, an attempt to do their part during this bad economy, they schedule blood drives, they host nutritional talks and they occasionally partner with other businesses for their mutual good.

Ariel and Shannon are knowledgeable. They’re caring. They’re highly motivational and they’ve gotten me into positions that could result in my being salted and thrown onto the metal arm of a display case at Auntie Anne's.  

4) Track Shack and Fleet Feet (Altamonte Springs)....  Thanks to those who are responsible for organizing the road races my friends force me to participate in about once per/month. 

Ironically, one of the Track Shack owners, Betsy Hughes, was on my high school track team.  Well, it was probably more accurate to say that I was on hers.  As I mentioned, I was on the team for purely social reasons.  I never came in first in a race (or second or third...), but I also never came in last.  I would always jog at a slow, but not completely embarrassing, pace for 90 percent of my heat, then pour it on at the very end, so as to beat at least one person, who was in the back of the pack with me, in the final seconds before crossing that finish line.  Betsy, on the other hand, appeared to care about the outcomes of her races and has apparently embraced fitness throughout her life.  Seriously though, I read the Track Shack blog, including her Betsy's Corner postings, from time to time now, http://www.trackshack.com/blog/ and I appreciate the effort she and her husband have put into running a quality, family owned business that encourages fitness and gives back to the community.  If you run (or attempt to) in Central Florida, you have almost certainly participated in Track Shack/EMMI events.  They are plentiful.  They are fun.  They are well run and they attract enormous crowds.

I've also grown to think a lot of Fleet Feet.  They aren't as well known, but they have made a real effort to rally the community with their innovative events i.e Diva Night and their free or almost free monthly "fun runs" which, on occasion, result in homemade pancakes or ice cream for the finishers.  (I mean, how could you not like a company, http://www.fleetfeetorlando.com/ that sponsors an event like this October 31st's, Trick or Treat Zombie Walk in Sanford.)

Thanks to the staff at Dunkin Donuts, too, for hosting the “after party” we all attend at the conclusion of every 5K. Though it may seem counter -productive, I don’t think I’d be able to drag myself out of bed at "O dark thirty" (as my friend, Cindy, likes to call the insanely early time we assemble) one Saturday per/month without the promise of a small dose of sugar and caffeine.

What do I hate about exercising? Gosh, where do I start?

I am kind of known for having an internal clock that’s on a different time zone than everyone else’s, but even my clock keeps better time than Ariel Hernandez’s. When Ariel directs us into “powerful chair” pose and asks us to hold it for a count of ten, I cringe. “1 – 2 – 3 – 4 …. Did I tell you guys what were going to do next week? It’s going to be so awesome! You’re going to love it! (At this point, Ariel may stop counting to display next week’s awesome pose)…. 5 – 6 …. Hold it. Hold it. You can do it! Yes, you can! Hold it! Did I tell you all the bloodmobile will be here next Sat? 7 – 8 …. Great Job, Guys! You’re doing it! Hold it……. only two more! ..............……………………………………………………………………… 9 and 10!” Hate that!

I hate that I usually ended up doing an unchoreographed dance solo in the line dancing class my friend Cindy tricked me into taking. When Brad Paisley sang:

“I’d like to see you out in the moonlight
I'd like to kiss you, baby, way back in the sticks
I'd like to walk you through a field of wildflowers
I'd love to check you for ticks." 


I was always in the sticks when the rest of the class was in the wildflowers!

I hate when I’m playing tennis with my friend, Nancy, aka Maria Sharapova, and she tells me that we can’t stop playing until we’ve volleyed back and forth ten consecutive times … when she KNOWS perfectly well that I’m incapable of returning the ball ten consecutive times. I also hate that the squirrels who live in the trees that border the court had the nerve to go out and buy themselves little helmets to wear during our matches.

I hate that my friend, Cathy, has to shift to a lower gear so she’s able to go slow enough to keep pace with me when we bike up to Panera Bread off the Wekiva Trail. I hate when I’m “running” a 5K and I see a gentleman who was born during Calvin Coolidge’s presidency up ahead of me.

Truth be told, I hate almost every moment of energy I expend trying to regain my girlish figure. I do love the end result though!

I love that when we’re done with yoga, I feel so long and lean and flexible. (Note: I said that I feel long and lean, not that I look long and lean. Unfortunately, there is a difference.)

I love the way I feel when I cross the finish line in a 5K. I love when my cheeks are flushed and my heart is racing. There are women in my age bracket who can run a 10K in less time than it takes me to run a 5K. (I’m sure they’re taking steroids!). When I beat my own time, though, it’s really quite a rush.

I love that I allowed myself to wear shorts out in public this year for the first time in about a decade. I wanted to borrow one of those Segways, when I was in those shorts, so I didn’t have to walk or run in them or do anything else that might cause my thighs to move in any way, but still… this was progress.

I love that I am able to get into my favorite jeans again. (Getting into them requires a little shimmying. It also recently resulted in a flashback to an incident that took place during my college days… an incident involving Jordache jeans, too much pizza, one of my closest college friends, a stubborn zipper and the floor of a Lexington, KY pizza parlor bathroom.)

I love the shot of serotonin I get when I break a sweat. I love how working out always seems to lift my spirits.

Heck, I love that I’m probably adding a few years to my life. I’m starting to really enjoy this life again, so I might as well try and lengthen the ride.

During the Oprah show episode about her weight gain at the beginning of the year, Oprah lamented that, whether she likes it or not, exercising is something she has to do at this point in her life. I’m with her. I entered this crazy world of fitness kicking and screaming (wonder how many calories that activity burned???), but I’m here now and I intend to stay. I mean, I intend to move! Tennis anyone?