Crazy Track Lady Tip #2: Having Fun

July 30, 2010

Let’s face it folks, exercising can really suck at times. Many people hate the repetitive nature of exercise and eventually grow bored of the same routine.  Boredom leads to laziness, which leads to weight gain. Blah, blah, blah.

But I often wonder what would happen to our overweight society as a whole if everyone just exercised in fun ways? Forget jogging — DANCE around instead! Tired of lifting weights to get defined biceps? Just punch a bag instead. Think of it as a “dual purpose” workout — building biceps and relieving stress while you punch a bag and think of how many people in your world have pissed you off, lied to you, let you down, etc.

For me, exercising MUST be engaging and fun enough so that I will continue to do it. Instead of jogging around the track, I dance around it. I shimmy and shake and generally make an ass out of myself in public. But, that’s okay, I’m having fun while doing it, and the pounds are coming off. So, whatever works for me, that’s what I’ll do.

Exercise must be varied in order to work. The body becomes used to the same movements and repetitions that it no longer responds to what you are doing. Again, time to switch it up.

Many people believe there are only certain ways to exercise that work (running, jogging, lifting weights, walking a treadmill, etc). The truth is, movement is the key — and pretty much anything can get you moving if you are willing to think outside the box a bit and just try new activities. Here are a list of things that a person can do apart from their regular routine (or no routine, if that’s the case), that are so much fun, they don’t even “feel” like exercise:

Ice or roller skating

Playing kickball or dodgeball

Playing Twister (I swear it’s like kiddie yoga) or any childhood outdoor game

Martial arts (if you are opposed to violence, then go with a low impact one like Tai Chi or yoga)

Pillow fighting (I swear ten minutes of this and  you’ll be covered in sweat!)

Sweeping, mopping and scrubbing floors (for those who are clean freaks)

Water gun fight around the yard in summer, snow ball fight in winter if you live in a cold weather area

All of the above are a fun way to exercise, and you won’t even realize you’re doing it!

So today’s tip: MAKE IT FUN.


Diary of a Crazy Track Lady 7-10-10

July 10, 2010

Hi there, lady! I am so happy to see you again. I just wanted to take a moment to say “YAY, YOU!” for your excellent work this past week. I am glad we’ve both decided to get back on track with exercising and eating healthier.  It hasn’t been too bad, eh?

I like how we’re starting to feel….again. It’s been awhile since we’ve had a chance to experience the endorphin rush, hasn’t it? Wow, how I have missed that post-aerobo-dogging calmness! I am sooooo glad we started that up again. And best of all, it’s FREE! Okay, so the idea of joining a fitness program and working out sounds wonderful, but why spend the money when we can use our neighborhood as our gym? The economy is tight enough as is, and we’re already stretched beyond our means. So, back to strapping the harness on your BEST PERSONAL TRAINER EVER, and away we can go –out to dance, sing, jog and fret about like the “crazy track lady” you’ve become. TAKE THAT, fancy health clubs!

Keep up the great work. I’ll be checking back in on you to make sure you’re remaining focused and inspired. Remember, two and a half years ago how HOT you looked? Well, we can and will get back there again. I’m in charge now, and I am NOT going to sit back and watch you fail again!

I’ll see you in a few days. And remember, I am here for you.

Love,

Future Hot Self


God’s Quilt

October 25, 2009

He sweeps the sky clear
dropping white cotton balls
over an azure colored backdrop.

He caresses the leaves,
with his feather-bristled paint brush
tickling each one a little at a time
until they burst into gales
of blushing reds, burnt oranges,
and stoic maroons.

He whispers to them silently,

“It is time–young children
To shed your overcoats
Throw down your defenses
and sturdy yourself –
all your limbs askew,
all your trunks exposed,
all your footing solid,
for Father Winter is coming soon.”

Random Thoughts From the Nerd

October 22, 2009

I want to know what dogs are thinking, but not smelling. I don’t want to have to work that hard or experience that much.

Cats are impossible to read. They need an interpreter – perhaps a chinchilla?

I really don’t want to know how swine flu went from swine to human. Or for that matter, how ebola went from monkey to human. Regardless, someone was acting inappropriately in both situations.

Is it possible to freeze electricity?

There HAS to be a speed of dark. I just feel it. I’d be shocked if there weren’t.

Nothing smells better in a house than a batch of snickerdoodles fresh from the oven.

Any word that has “oodle” in it is fun to say.

The best punctuation mark in the world? The umlaut. Not just fun to use, but fun to say. Try it, you’ll agree.

Ask the Amish if they use hybrids. They’ll probably say, “Yes, I own a mule.” Great tie in with biology.

If Edgar Allan Poe were alive today, I would want to be his Facebook friend. Only.

People who think the world cares about them, but we really don’t:

  • Heidi and Spencer Pratt
  • Jon Gosselin
  • Paris Hilton
  • Tila Tequila
  • Balloon boy dad

People who will some day get their asses kicked by an assorted group of fed-up middle class and lower class folks:

  • Same folks

If we can put a man on the moon, why can’t anyone create chocolate covered potato chips? Two PMS problems solved at once.


Blue Haireds and Bad Smells

August 4, 2009

Man, my eyes are burning. This shit smells worse than cat piss, too. I blame all the blue haired, little old ladies, anyone who works in a department store, horny teenaged boys, and pre-pubescent girls who insist upon dressing up like little whores in a French red light district, for bringing this evil curse upon me. I’m talking about cheap, tawdry, perfume and body deodorants.

While taking our teenage son out for his daily “crash and dash” lessons (he’s a new driver — just a warning for all you locals), we stopped by two local stores: Hallmark and Kohl’s. My daughter was searching for a Webkinz — ever hear of those? Yea, those stuffed animals some incredible genius invented for the sole purpose of separating me from my money. I swear, I’m gonna kick the ass of the person who created this latest internet “must have”.

For those of you unfamiliar with Webkinz, here’s how it works. Every seven seconds, some unknown group of marketing savants meets in the dark basement of a tall building, devising new “stuffed’ animals for their assigned demographic: Children ages 3-9. While they “think” they are targeting only this age group is beyond me — I haven’t been able to cure my 13-year old daughter of this affliction called “IWantItNow!” since the damn things first emerged.

Wait — isn’t this similar to the whole “Beanie Babies” craze of the 90s? Kind of — only worse. These animals come with — hold on a sec, you’ll love this one — interactive capabilities! Apparently, the days of just “playing” with a cutesy, stuffed animal are long gone. To hell with being creative enough to make up little stories and scenarios with your two dollars’ worth of fuzzy material and fiberfill carefully crafted by Factory Workers #123 and #346 from somewhere inside the bowels of  a sweatshop factory in Indonesia. Now your little darling gets the chance to go “interactive”! Nothing says quality parenting better than sticking your 4-year old in front of a computer for six hours a day and allowing them to “chat” with other Labrador retrievers and goldendoodles from all over the world. Way to go, technology!

I see I have wandered off track here. My original rant really has nothing to do with those insidious stuffed animals. It has everything to do with the places we went today that sells them, however. I don’t know why every Hallmark store I have ever walked into smells like a bunch of little old ladies swathed in Faberge just set up camp inside the front doors. I swear, my eyes begin to burn the second I open up the glass doors. Just walking from the front to the back of the store is liking running a military gauntlet where they use perfume spritzers instead of swords. Nothing says “survival training” better than spending ten minutes in a noxious cloud of perfume without wearing a gas mask, running out, eyes burning, lungs in full vapor-lock, and taking in big gulps of fresh air.

But my pain didn’t end there. Noooo. After the stop at Hallmark, we had to run over to Kohl’s to get my husband a new watch. And yes, once again had to pass through the perfume section. In fact, we had to stop in the section so my husband could peruse the Timexes. And this is where little old ladies and young girls need to be banned from ever visiting. While hubby looked at watches, my daughter decided she’d imbue herself with a big ol’ spritz of “cheap ho” perfume. I swear, the stuff was potent enough to stun a water buffalo into complete submission.

I used to wear perfume, years ago back when I first met my husband and was trying to get laid a lot more often than I need to now. My perfume of choice was a lovely, subtle smell called “White Linen” by Estee Lauder. It smelled of Lilies of the Valley, and wasn’t the least bit overpowering. One small dab on my wrist lasted for the entire day. But, I stopped wearing it when I realized that sniffly nose I was sporting by 6 pm every evening was actually an allergic reaction I was having to the scent. My eyes would itch, my lungs would start to close up, and I’d swear I was developing a cold. By next morning, however, I’d feel fine. How I went for so long before I was able to connect the dots between perfume and allergy, I’ll never know. I just decided I’d stop wearing perfume — I didn’t want the hassle of having my lungs close up on me on a regular basis.

Unfortunately, my choice to stop wearing perfume doesn’t protect me from the little old blue haireds who choose to bathe in theirs. You know the types — because their smell announces their arrival five minutes before you ever see them sneaking up to you like some sort of “perfumed, blue wigged” ninja.

I have two theories about why they do these things:

1. They no longer have a reliable sense of smell. Like our hearing and sight, our sense of smell weakens as we grow older. Therefore, what they think is a “dab” is really a bath in perfume. They just can’t smell it as strongly.

2. It’s really a cover up. For what? I don’t want to be cruel or crude here, but I think it’s a way for them to cover up the other smells associated with aging: bladder control issues, gastrointestinal emissions, and bodily odors.

Last time I checked, Miss Manners frowned heavily on going out in public reeking like a bus station urinal. Can it happen to me someday? Probably — but I also believe there comes a time when adults need to consider wearing diapers again. Adult diapers. And carry a diaper bag at all times, if necessary.

As for gastrointestinal emissions — well, I’m just as guilty for that as anyone. However, I haven’t reached the stage in my life where I’m required to eat Metamucil and drink a quart of prune juice a day. My innards are still relatively intact, so anything with extra fiber hasn’t worn down my tract to the point of a bad case of the walking farts–yet. It’s ironic when you think about farts — at 13, they’re hilarious. At 82? Not so much. So, on goes the perfume to cover up the smell of last night’s lentil soup now wafting through the church’s rafters.

Bodily odors. Ugh. As a mother of a teenage hockey player, nothing smells worse than a hockey bag with 20 lbs of gear shoved into the backseat of the minivan moments after an on-ice session. That smell can knock a vulture off a meat wagon. Which leads me to another moment in time when “perfume” became my worst enemy.

Apparently, another marketing guru come up with the idea for a teenage boy’s deodorant called “Axe”. They showed commercial after commercial of nerdy looking boys spraying themselves with this, only to end up with gorgeous, cheerleader type girls hanging all over them. Nothing says “I might get laid” to a horny teenage boy better, huh? So, out came the pleas: “Mom — I want some Axe so I can smell good for my non-existent girlfriend!” Granted, my son needed deodorant. Badly. So, I gave in, bought him his own “horndog-in-a-can” and told him “Use it sparingly, and only after hockey practice”.

Well, mom — that was all well and good, but did you stop to think that ALL the other boys on his team saw that same freaping commercial? Yes, 17 cans of Axe, 17 horny, stupid teenaged boys and one big Axe fight, stinkin’ up the locker room. By the time he came out of the locker room, my eyes were already burning. By the time we got home, I was partially blinded, and on the verge of total lung collapse. All because the entire team of boys assumed the same thing — “Axe gets you laid.” Wrong, Axe irritates the shit out of your mother’s respiratory system, and she refuses to let you wear it in the house, ever.

I digress again. This rant really isn’t about teenage boys or pre-pubsecent girls with stuffed animal obsessions. It’s about little old ladies who insist on going out in public dripping in horrible, irritating scents. Ladies, you’re darling, you served your purpose in life, now it’s time to listen to what I have to say. Your excessive use of  cheap, clearance-priced perfume found at the bottom of a “reduced-for-quick-sale-purchase” bin at the local Big Lots has got to stop. It is annoying and, for some of us, a real health concern. I’m sure you’d never intentionally set out to harm me. But, before you go out, do me a favor. Ask a friend (one who has a much better sense of smell than you) to give you a good, all over body sniff. If nothing offensive is coming from your pants or your armpits, then consider laying off the perfume. If it is your pants or your armpits, then have some self pride and fix yourself — you old hot mess. I don’t want to be able to smell you ten minutes before, or three hours after, you dodder by.


Ascension

August 4, 2009

At times, my life was a landscape,
Designed and defined
By wheat-colored, stilled flat lands
Stretching for endless miles,
along a simple plane.
My life at times was a slow pace
Of gradual ascent
Towards a sandstone plateau
Overlooking impassable peaks and low-lying valleys.
Riverbanks overflowing from tears,
Raged alongside
The soft carpeting of springy, green grass
just beyond my reach,
where lavender-colored flowers bent to the wind’s call
and red-breasted songbirds answered in unabashed celebration.

My life is becoming
A series of jagged,
Roughened, wind-worn edges
Of slips, dips, slides and glides
Along its changing horizons.
The pebbles under my feet –
Small annoyances left behind long ago.
The stones in my shoes –
My burdens along this beaten path.
Boulders – some granite, others made of
weathering sandstone,
Are my constant worries:

Am I good enough?
Am I smart enough?
Am I loved enough?

Navigating this mountain
I remind myself to breathe in deeply
To fill my body with life’s experiences
And oxygen to feed my slowly healing soul.

I scan the horizon above, beside and below me:
Above– the freedom to think, to be, to allow, to accept
Beside– less frequent boulders continue to block  my path ahead
Below– more pebbles and stones awaiting my weary feet

Then will I begin my descent down the other side
Stopping only when my journey ends at the place where
I find that bright, green, spring-filled meadow of
safe, soft grass.
Where I can dance,
Unencumbered and unabashed,
among the yellow buttercups and flittering butterflies,
Bare-footed and finally free.


Conversations with My Muse: Consequences of Our Actions

August 2, 2009

Well, well. It looks as though my muse has gotten herself into a little bit of a legal entanglement. While perusing the internet news sites, I came across this little news blurb:

Woman Sought for Damages, Causing International Havoc

(IP) International authorities (Interpol) are currently on the search for a woman connected to a recent series of disturbances in and around the Mediterranean area. As recently as last Friday, July 3l, several witnesses staying at the Hotel Trevi in Rome, Italy, indicated they had seen a young woman acting “strangely”. “We were there to see the Pope,” Augusta Sincionni stated to local authorities. “We didn’t expect such a sideshow!”

According to local attendees at the Pope’s Friday night service, the woman was overheard yelling random, nonsensical things such as: “Down with monotheism! Socrates deserved to die!” and, most bizarrely “Shakespeare was a fake!”

Unable to apprehend the suspect, authorities are now asking for the public’s help. The woman can be described as “in her mid- to late-twenties, braided, reddish hair, wearing a white toga with gold lamé trim and carrying a switch-blade stylus.” Anyone who sees a woman matching that description is encouraged to contact the local authorities. She is not considered “armed and dangerous,” merely off her medication.