Like when I was a kid and my gymnastics team was set to go see Nadia Comaneci perform on her American tour. The talk every day in our gym centered around this blessed event. I wasn't all that excited. I just felt it wasn't going to happen. The enthusiasm didn't apply to me.
Sure enough, Nadia put on a few pounds and became rebellious about training. The tour was cancelled.
Some years later in our Lamaze classes while I was pregnant with Number One Son, I had the sneaking suspicion that I really didn't need to pay attention. All the breathing and positions weren't for me to be concerned about. The birth process magically didn't apply to me.
Sure enough, Number One ended up being a not-quite-emergency Cesarean delivery.
But there is one area where my inner voice has failed me. All the talk I've heard since I was a kid about getting old, getting wrinkles, gray hair, sore joints, saggy boobs, excess weight--without a shadow of a doubt I knew that tedious business didn't apply to me!
Turns out? My sixth sense was too busy watching Scooby Doo to see the truth . . .
Crow's feet do appear, whether or not I thought they would. Greys occasionally sneak in, though I was convinced that would never happen to me. And boobs? Yeah, draw your own mental picture there . . .
And all the stuff everyone says about how much more difficult it is as you age to maintain weight, take off extra pounds, keep fit and toned and flexible? It's all true. And? It actually does apply to me. F*ck.
That is why I sucked it up and joined kickboxing bootcamp. Which, you may recall, ended up being a bit of a disappointment. And now that I'm healed, I attempted rejoining. But my work schedule is constantly at odds with class times. Sigh.
I was thinking yoga would be a healthy alternative. But again, the classes I was interested in are scheduled during times I just can't be there.
I resigned myself to go back to ralking (Beautiful's word for my running/walking.) Only I can't do it before work because it's dark out. And I can't do it after work because it's dark out.
As that bitch Fate would have it, Cheek happened to post this article about hula hooping performance art. Reading through it, I noticed the woman, Suat Ling Chua, mentioned she had been doing her hula hoop "routine." Curious what a hula hoop routine could entail, I did a quick Google search.
What I learned is that hula hoopin' is the next big thing in exercise fads. I am never one to do the "in" thing, but I decided an exercise regimen with a hula hoop was definitely what I was looking for. I was, after all, the 3rd grade hula hooping champion. Champion, I tell you!
Know what I discovered? I discovered that holy crap it's been a long time since the 3rd grade!! And I am no longer in champion form . . .
It took 15 or 20 tries before I could get beyond one revolution. And every time it hit the ground, it smacked into my ankles first.
So here's my first piece of advice for anyone considering joining the hula hoop revolution:
Don't do it naked.(I'm assuming this would be a good rule of thumb. I was barefoot during my trial runs which is why it hurt my ankles so much. I can only guess at how the rest of me would have fared without my protective clothing!)
Buy a top of the line hula hoop. Not one from Toys 'R Us.
That's engineered for a standard 3rd grader . . .
A good adult hoop should be fairly weighty (1-2 lbs is good.) And not partially filled with water as the counterbalance like my cheap plastic crappy one is. It's like the hoop has a tide all its own. And the hoop tide wasn't always in sync with my moon . . .
If your inner voice is telling you that this is kind of a bullsh*t exercise
"program" and not to waste your time--trust your inner voice. The coming
hula hooping wave probably doesn't apply to you. Unless you're looking for
one more piece of cheesy exercise equipment for your next garage
Must run now. I have to do some research on where I can buy a quality hula hoop . . .