My Love Letter

  Oh, fickle time. You used to be around constantly. I had so much of you, I took you for granted! You were always there, lulling me back to sleep for another hour, enjoying a hot meal with me, pouring some bubbles into my soothing mid-day bath. If ever I felt rushed, I'd just remind myself that I had you. But, like so many other things, once I had children, you were gone. I guess you don't like kids, because you cut off our friendship the very second my first baby was born. Don't you realize what you did? I can barely scrape by without you! Look at me, I'm falling apart! I try to go to the store, you know the organic, fancy one we used to go to? We'd peruse the aisles, sampling, grazing, meandering about. I tried to go, but without you it just wasn't the same. The kids opened the bulk food spouts and released wheat berries and spelt flour into the wild. The sample lady went on break just as the children spotted the samples, and they wouldn't move without crying until the she came back. I couldn't remember what I even went there for, and the whole time I kept screaming about how I didn't have you; "I don't have time!" It was heartbreaking.
   Not convinced that I need you? Just look at my face! There are bags under these eyes that only you can take away. Creases on my forehead from the toll of your loss. Oh, I've spent so much money trying to replace you, to fix the damage you left. Nightly visits to Avon, Mary Kay, and even exotic Olay, claiming, "Time Repair" and "Reverse the effects of time". Just like any other rebound, they just don't do it. They're not you. Money can't buy you!
   I should've known you were trouble by the way you behaved in college. I mean, one minute you were all over me, the next you were completely gone! I'd have to huddle over a computer in a dark room, near tears, trying desperately to complete the paper you left me with. My mother warned me you'd leave. "Once you have children, time will go out the window, you'll never have it again". But I thought I was different, that you would treat me different than all the others. Why wouldn't you? My scheduling and multi-tasking capabilities were phenomenal, isn't that why I had so much of your attention in the first place? Surely we could rise above the rest, after all, I had pinned dozens of articles on children and organization off Pinterest. You didn't care. After that first contraction, you were gone.
   Is it the way I've let myself go? If you came back, I'd fix myself right back up. I swear! I'd paint my nails, do my hair, put on some gorgeous makeup. Oh, I'd wear yoga pants for their fully intended purpose and not just because they're so soft and go with all my t-shirts. I'd exfoliate, deep-condition, microdermabrase, high-light, low-light, lighten up, and even (dare I dream?) wax my eyebrows. I'd make those massive-salads-in-a-teeny-mason-jar that you saw on Pinterest and like so much instead of trying to give you microwaved dino chicken nuggets. We'd only shop in those delicate, sweet-smelling boutiques with the uppity ladies that glare at children that I haven't been in since you left. I just need you!
   You know what? Fine. I get it, you're never coming back, and who's to say I would take you back? I mean, if having you back means that my children are out of the house, well I just don't think I can do that. I may not have you, but I do have two small tornados that give me sticky kisses and have no concept of your existence. In fact, maybe if I stop telling them about how I don't have you I can start to heal. Patience has been knocking on my door for awhile now, maybe I should answer and try to move on. So goodbye, time, you were just an illusion in the first place.

Box Turtles Bite! (and other facts that bite you in the ass)

   Yesterday, I saved a turtle, only to have it bite my two year old son in a rather pissy manner if I may say so myself. The poor turtle was surrounded by preschoolers and faced a grisly death by the industrial lawn mower zig-sagging closer and closer. So I picked it up, and fielded off the exclamations of, "watch out, its a snappy turtle!" and "that tootle will bite you!" with smug reassurances that it was a sweet box turtle. I apparently placed too much confidence in this damn turtle, because my cherubic, snotty-nosed baby reached out one little finger and that turtle lunged at it like a duck after a French fry. Have you heard the word "turtle" enough? I don't think so. So, lesson learned, box turtles do in fact bite, and those little preschoolers knew way more than I gave them credit for.
    This is a fitness blog, though, so how does this tie in to the gym? Box turtles....box jumps....turtle pose....no. Is there a turtle pose? I don't know. Stick a BOSU ball on someone's back and make them low crawl. There we go. I patent that! Just kidding.
   No, I'm relating this to fitness through instinct. Those young children knew through instinct that that distressed, desperate turtle was in no mood for babies. They even told me! In my grand state of adultness, I ruled out that possibility. Snapping turtles bite, they're dangerous. Box turtles eat lettuce and look cute. I ignored a very basic instinct because somewhere I had read something that assured me it was safe. That right there was the reason my son will have a deep, dark fear of box turtles that will haunt him for life and sneak up on him in a movie theater when a turtle comes on the screen and ruin the date he was on with what would've been the perfect woman and mother of my grandchildren and permanently label me as the destroyer of my son's life. But I digress....
   Who hasn't tried out a new move in a group class or at the gym and thought, "Really? Is this correct? It feels wrong." But the instructor, or the magazine, or YouTube said it was ok, so you kept going. Don't. If it feels wrong, stop. Instructors aren't infallible. We learn everyday, and often the rules and national guidelines change. What was once ok, is now proven to mess up your shoulders. What was once thought healthy is now a major contraindication. As professionals, we study, practice, and strive to stay on top of it all but things can slip through the cracks and people through our peripheral vision.  There are many of you and only one of us in a classroom.
Magazines are the devil. Many of those moves you see in popular magazines are hazardous and borderline contraindicated. Not all, but enough to make professionals nervous. During training, I was taught NEVER to teach moves from a magazine, unless I'm trying to hurt someone. Think about it. You have a stressed out writer with an article deadline frantically Google-ing some move never featured before in any of the other thousand magazines, some crazy headline grabber. But I, as well as most, am guilty of trusting those moves. My instinct may have thought, "wow, this one-legged hop with a kettle bell press on a BOSU sure is jacking up my knees and spine and holy crap I hope I don't fall!" but I looked at the magazine, it said it was cool, so I kept going. There are some good programs/articles out there, such as the Spartan Workout from Men's Fitness Magazine and I always love a good, basic core plan, just beware the desperate turtles. Learn to listen to the little guy (your brain) when he tells you it isn't right. Stick to the basics, they're still around for a reason.
    All in all, enjoy your fitness, remember that a pushup trumps most, and if you pull of my patented BOSU turtle exercise, I expect pictures! ;)