I always laugh when, presumably because of what I do for a living, people actually think I love working out. HILARIOUS. Because I have never particularly enjoyed working out, and now that I am a parent, I enjoy it even less. However, one does what one must to fit into one’s jeans. Today, I tackled simplifying my workouts.
I haven’t belonged to a gym in several years, mainly because the closest one is an overpriced, overcrowded bounce-fest that rhymes with “Sally’s”, and that isn't going to happen for so many reasons. So, this leaves me two options: exercise outside, or exercise at home. Given that it’s about 40 below outside, at home it is! Now, once upon a time, in a pre-baby world, I exercised for an hour each day, plus aerial training. Now, I consider it a success if I take the stairs instead of slumping into a corner of the elevator. Actually, to tell the truth, I still aim for an hour a day, but never make it. My time gets eaten up by this and that, I’m durned tired, or I get interrupted in the way that only mommies get interrupted (your husband’s playing the airplane game a bit too close to the fan, you smell “something”, it’s a little too quiet, etc.) So, what to do?
Half an hour, every day. I set a timer for 30 minutes, and alternate strength moves – which I’ve given catchy little names like “The Ow Ow Ow” and “The I-Could-Totally-Do-This-When-I-Was-20” - and cardio bursts (…no catchy names for these). I figure that, in a few years, there will be seasons of life where I can return to longer and more extensive workouts; but for this season, half an hour will have to do. So go grab your timer, dust off your Jane Fonda, and turn up that Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch. Come on America -let's get fit while simultaneously embarrassing our children! Woot!
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