An appreciative Ode to People Who Keep Me in Stitches
Nicole Chardenet wrote me that line yesterday.
When I was able to climb back onto my dining room chair (I hurt myself laughing) I wrote her and warned her I was bloody well going to steal it. She said okay. She’s a fool, but then anyone who is friends with me needs to have their head examined for Large Lapses in Good Judgement.
That is just funny.
I’ve been poking fun at all the GET YOUR BEACH BOD articles that have shown up lately, and all the Exercise Programs for the Criminally Bored.
Loving fun, but still. My buddy Kerry Kuhn, whose kind, private grammarly PMs I’ve been missing lately fired me a note that she put in eight plus miles around the house. This is what happens when twelve feet of snow block your door, your garage, your windows on the second floor, and the only way out is to Reverse Santa. Just making this up, Kerry. (Truth is there are too many sick folks around her area). However, conditions drive what you and I can and/or must do to stay healthy and sane.
The latter in my case is questionable.
Once, during a particularly bad spate of snow, I spent an hour running up and down my one flight of stairs.
After that particular episode I considered nailing the upstairs access door shut. Were it not for the fact that my office is (was) down there, and so is my laundry, I might have done.
When the ex was living down there the idea cropped up on many occasions. Might have saved a lot of frustration. But I still needed my laundry.
Nicole has made a prayer that I think most of us might relate to: for the
Sudden Onset Coma. Is there such a thing? Can I sign up for the six-month one?
I fell off my chair again. Look, Nicole, I am trying to stay OUT of the ER.
Honestly. Such people are among the reasons that I have a hard time getting my raggedy ass into the living room to do my kick boxing (dyslexic camel) routine. I love finding this stuff online.
Now. Am I working out? Well yeah sort of.
Okay. Full disclosure. YES I do yoga, kickboxing, and weights every single day. On and off all day long. When in the kitchen I do tricep dips using the kitchen island. Every time I go downstairs I sprint back up. I regularly do pullups and pushups. Every. Single. Day.
I refuse to grow my mother’s underarm wings. They are waiting to sprout. Not on my watch. And, kindly, I have put in 33 years of hard labor to keep 80+ pounds from moving back into the neighborhood and bringing all their friends with them. They’re knocking at the door, shall we say.
Because as Nicole wrote, particularly since Mother Nature just painted us with a lovely spring snow and icy weather, I am stuck inside, and I’m really fucking bored. I thrive on high-octane physical activity.
It is really, really hard to simulate skydiving from the pullup bar in my upstairs bedroom doorway.
Although I could just land on my head, which would be right at home, since I already have twenty-one concussions.
That might in fact be the answer to induce Sudden Onset Coma, above.
On top of that I really did, yes I did, buy a bunch of chocolate almonds, chocolate raisins and Kinder Bueno bars. WAY too much, like for a family of eight. Okay, twelve.
Two days ago, after catching myself one too many times raiding the Secret Stash, I wrapped it all up in a big bag and shoved it into a top shelf in the garage. I really do forget it’s there. That’s one of the advantages of too many concussions. Use what you have. A short-term memory loss when it comes to (now where the HELL did I put those almonds) is a very handy thing.
But. I came here to be useful. In my self-appointed position of Fitness Guru to the Over Sixty, I have something to share.
This is a fitness hack for the aged (not the ages, thank you). Here goes:
I came up with a GREAT routine to build legs. This is specifically for those of us for who end up in the basement, like me, wondering
Now what the hell did I come down here for?
I have instituted the Old Fart Forgetfulness Fitness system.
Here’s how it works:
- If I stand in the basement scratching my noggin and can’t remember at all, I have to go back upstairs by leaping squats. No bannister. One stair at a time, hands-free. Not making this up. Sometimes I have to nap for a while before continuing. Or eat some chocolate almonds. You know. For energy.
- If I CAN remember, I only have to sprint back upstairs once. (Which of course causes me to go through the mid-stair Twilight Zone, which means I forget again). Repeat #1.
- If I CAN remember, but I get upstairs and forget again, I have to go back downstairs and do the squats all the way up. Twilight Zone. Rinse, repeat.
- If I CAN remember, sprint back upstairs once, then come downstairs again, and forget again (you laugh,I have done it more than once) I have to do the squat jumps twice. This is why I carry a pocket full of chocolate almonds. It gets exhausting.
- If I can walk after any of this, I am going to go back to bed.
Is this working?
I can’t remember.
But you should see my legs.
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