Archives
April 2005
4/30/05
4/30/05
4/30/05
4/30/05
4/30/05
4/29/05
4/28/05
4/25/05
4/24/05
4/24/05
4/23/05
4/22/05
4/21/05
4/21/05
4/21/05
4/20/05
4/19/05
4/19/05
4/19/05
4/18/05
4/17/05
4/16/05
4/16/05
4/16/05
4/14/05
4/14/05
4/14/05
4/13/05
4/12/05
4/11/05
4/11/05
4/11/05
4/11/05
4/10/05
4/10/05
4/7/05
4/6/05
4/6/05
4/6/05
4/5/05
4/5/05
4/4/05
Working Out
4/3/05
4/3/05
4/3/05
4/2/05
4/2/05
4/2/05
4/2/05
4/1/05
4/1/05
Monday, April 4, 2005
10:24:00 PM CDT
Hearing Otis Redding, I just Can't Turn You Loose
Last week, I joined a women's gym with a specified workout program. Without mentioning brand names, you move from station to station alternating cardio and muscle workouts in a fast pace. I've belonged to a lot health clubs in the past. Time after time, I've ended up doing most of my work in the weight room with the guys, so I had reservations about a women's only health club.
When I was younger, I often said that I felt like a St. Bernard at the poodle party, and nothing made me feel that way more than an aerobics class at a health club. There I'd be in the back row, steps behind everybody else, clad in sweats instead of some sexy leotard and tights, and huffing and puffing my way through a routine that seemed to make everyone else glow like some 80s MTV video vixen.
Despite that, I like working out with people around. It's motivating. Down in the Nautilus room at my last gym, after I learned to ignored the floor to ceiling mirrors and go about my routine in peace, the guys eventually started giving me pointers on form and credit for my persistence and progress. I think the younger and shyer ones also liked having a friendly, old married lady who would introduce them to the cute, single girls in the aerobics class upstairs. The girls didn't mind that too much either.
So, last week, the girlchild and I went to our new healthclub regularly and worked through the routine. This is good for her, because the time is limited and the exercises are structured. Since it was also her choice, it works with the need for control that is part of an eating disorder. Channeling that control into something healthy is an important part of recovery. She's always loved exercise, but compulsive exercise was part of the illness, so a limited routine of her choice is a wonderful, hopeful thing and shows how far she's come.
I really enjoyed the workout as well, but one thing was a bit strange for me. The music they played was best described as Christian disco, or as the girlchild calls it, Chrisco. Amazing Grace to a Studio 54 beat was something I just wasn't prepared for. Today when we walked in, Aretha's Freedom was blasting over the sound system, and I breathed a little more freely. In all honesty, I get more of an uplift from old R & B than most contemporary Christian music. I also felt freer to just move and let those endorphins flow.
I'm as feminine as the next woman, but I'm not one for a lot of pastels and traditionally feminine colors. In my small town, that makes me a bit of an anomaly. Spring for me means shifting from black to navy in the wardrobe. The girlchild is in her punk stage, with a lot black clothing, sarcastic tshirts, and clunky shoes. I'm hoping this is a reaction to several months of a Catholic school uniform. If I'd allow it, she'd pierce her tongue, belly button and get a chin librette, but that's just not going to happen. Our health club is painted in Barbie colors, two pink and two purple walls, and quite frankly I was stunned that she could handle that. She does enjoy standing out in the crowd there and asked me if she could talk them into playing a cd from the group Bad Religion. I wonder where she gets that smart aleck streak.
Sometimes, the thing that just seems all wrong is the thing that may be just right.
Written by sistercdr Blog about this entry |
Add to del.icio.us | 
digg this
10:24:00 PM CDT
Hearing Otis Redding, I just Can't Turn You Loose
Working Out
When I was younger, I often said that I felt like a St. Bernard at the poodle party, and nothing made me feel that way more than an aerobics class at a health club. There I'd be in the back row, steps behind everybody else, clad in sweats instead of some sexy leotard and tights, and huffing and puffing my way through a routine that seemed to make everyone else glow like some 80s MTV video vixen.
Despite that, I like working out with people around. It's motivating. Down in the Nautilus room at my last gym, after I learned to ignored the floor to ceiling mirrors and go about my routine in peace, the guys eventually started giving me pointers on form and credit for my persistence and progress. I think the younger and shyer ones also liked having a friendly, old married lady who would introduce them to the cute, single girls in the aerobics class upstairs. The girls didn't mind that too much either.
So, last week, the girlchild and I went to our new healthclub regularly and worked through the routine. This is good for her, because the time is limited and the exercises are structured. Since it was also her choice, it works with the need for control that is part of an eating disorder. Channeling that control into something healthy is an important part of recovery. She's always loved exercise, but compulsive exercise was part of the illness, so a limited routine of her choice is a wonderful, hopeful thing and shows how far she's come.
I really enjoyed the workout as well, but one thing was a bit strange for me. The music they played was best described as Christian disco, or as the girlchild calls it, Chrisco. Amazing Grace to a Studio 54 beat was something I just wasn't prepared for. Today when we walked in, Aretha's Freedom was blasting over the sound system, and I breathed a little more freely. In all honesty, I get more of an uplift from old R & B than most contemporary Christian music. I also felt freer to just move and let those endorphins flow.
I'm as feminine as the next woman, but I'm not one for a lot of pastels and traditionally feminine colors. In my small town, that makes me a bit of an anomaly. Spring for me means shifting from black to navy in the wardrobe. The girlchild is in her punk stage, with a lot black clothing, sarcastic tshirts, and clunky shoes. I'm hoping this is a reaction to several months of a Catholic school uniform. If I'd allow it, she'd pierce her tongue, belly button and get a chin librette, but that's just not going to happen. Our health club is painted in Barbie colors, two pink and two purple walls, and quite frankly I was stunned that she could handle that. She does enjoy standing out in the crowd there and asked me if she could talk them into playing a cd from the group Bad Religion. I wonder where she gets that smart aleck streak.
Sometimes, the thing that just seems all wrong is the thing that may be just right.
Written by sistercdr Blog about this entry |
Add to del.icio.us | digg this
This entry has 8 comments: (Add your own)
-
"Chrisco!" I love that word. Back during our "Christian Phase" in the 80's, we were heavily into "Contemporary Christian Music." Consequently, I missed several years of good rock.
We cancelled our gym membership several months back, because we just weren't using it. AND I stopped going to the pool. Not a good idea for someone my age. If I don't stay active these days, my joints turn to stone. I creak around the house like a 90-year-old. Lisa :-] -
Oh, I've felt like that St. Bernard, too! It's one of the reasons I've never joined a gym. I'm so uncomfortable with other people around, looking at me while I huff and puff.
I love your daughter's Chrisco comment. LOL -
I have gone to that women's only place...and I hate the hours!!! I haven't been lately because my life does not work around its hours! mine doesn't play Crisco music but they do play music that does not put me in the working out mood
Beck -
First, thank you for your comment, Cynthia. I wish I could claim credit for it, but in this case I don't think I had anything to do with it, I was just a medium. As for your latest entry, I think that we, male and female, reach a point that we are meant to reach, and when we reach it we feel so much more comfortable. We may not at first understand that we have reached it, but eventually it is borne in upon us, and we FEEL it. I think you may have reached that point.
Bonnie is much as you are; she knows she is feminine without having to demonstrate it constantly, just as I don't feel the need to show how macho I can be anymore. There is a liberation in that realization - it is a wonderful feeling.
Peace - Malcolm
4/6/05 2:42 PM