I’ve never been a big fan of fitness classes. I can’t keep up with the moves, my 20-year-old t-shirts and shorts are out of place and the walls of mirrors leave no place for klutzes like me to hide. Exercising alone, in the comfort of my shabby and outdated workout attire, has always been much more appealing.
So I was surprised last week when I heard myself ask a neighbor friend if I could attend “Boot camp” with her–at 5:45 a.m. I had no idea what the class involved. Between Zumba, Bosu, Pilates, glide and spin, it’s hard to keep up with all the fitness trends.
When my alarm went off hours before the crack of dawn the next morning, my bed had never felt more divine. The sheets were soft and cool, the blankets the perfect balance of heaviness and warmth.
I scolded myself for volunteering for such a crazy idea. Nevertheless, volunteer I did and now my friend was counting on me to pick her up. So to Boot camp I must go.
Just twenty minutes after leaving the cozy nest of my bed, my nose was pressed against a dusty gym floor while a stop-watched carrying drill sergeant disguised as a small, blond fitness teacher stood overhead counting my push-ups. The name of the class suddenly made perfect sense.
During the next 45 minutes we ran lines and shuffled across the floor like high school hoopsters in slow motion. We did push-ups, sit-ups, burpees, squats, and jumping jacks. “Come on guys. This is suppose to be a sprint,” drill sergeant Jen scolded.
The Christmas truffles I had been eating for weeks shook like rocks in my head and the gingersnaps and frosted sugar cookies I ate the night before didn’t seem like such a smart bedtime snack. Thank goodness I remembered to grab a water bottle. It was gone half way through the class.
The final five minutes were dedicated to sit-ups. My red face looked like it would explode under the pressure of pulling myself up. I figured, in between grunts, that it had been at least 10 years since I had done a full sit-up. My abs had been sleeping a long time and clearly preferred to remain in slumber.
I cheated my way through the last of those, laid lifeless on the mat during the cool down, and shuffled out of the class.
“Isn’t that a great workout? Doesn’t it go fast?” my friend said cheerfully on the way home. Fortunately she didn’t wait for my response.
For the next couple days, normal functions like sitting, standing, and walking required considerable concentration. My whole body hurt. Laughing was torture. My only choice was to return to class in hopes of loosening up those stiff and neglected muscles.
Despite the pain, I have returned to the class three more times. The hour is grueling, but my classmates are motivating, the instructor is challenging, and I love how alive I feel when I drive to work.
Best wishes to all who are launching fitness goals in the New Year. May you find your inner drill sergeant—or a good Boot camp class—to keep you going.
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Christmas is Patience
Some friends and I are studying the fruit of the spirit – love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness, faithfulness and self control. It’s an amazing study – one I’ve completed before and embraced again because of the “fruit” it produced last time. I need more fruit.
One of the exercises in the study involves learning the American Sign Language expressions for each of the nine fruits. The sign for patience brought me to tears. You make a fist, place it thumb side down on your upper lip and move your thumb down over your closed lips, stopping under your chin. It’s a little difficult to demonstrate in writing, but it looks like a sign for shut your mouth.
I think I wrote about this the last time I completed this study but it bears repeating. Patience means “Keep that sharp comment to yourself.” I should check my actions with that sign when I feel my patience dwindling.
Patience can be hard to come by for kids and adults in our house. We had to wait 20 minutes at a coffee drive through on Sunday morning and tension was so high by the time we received our order we barely mustered a thank you for the woman who handed us our drinks. Merry Christmas. God bless you!
It’s embarrassing to admit, but I know we aren’t alone. I watched two young women in a large SUV nearly run a sedan off south 7th street last week when the car wasn’t going fast enough. They eventually weaved hazardously through the traffic and roared past the “slow” car only to sit next to it at the very next stoplight.
Christmas is associated with a variety of feelings and states—joy, hope, generosity, peace. This year, I’m noticing how much Christmas has to teach us about patience. The word isn’t emblazoned on Christmas ornaments or stocking holders but Christmas is swaddled in manger of patience.
Adults need patience to manage the extensive list of Christmas preparations on top of our already packed everyday lives. We need patience to deal with crowded stores and streets and with additional bills. Sometimes we need patience to interact with family members we only see at the holidays.
For children, Christmas is a grueling test of patience. Weeks, days, hours and minutes creep by until the moment when they can finally rip the wrapping off their gifts or rush to the tree to see what Santa delivered.
Ultimately, though, these are small and relatively simple exercises in patience. A friend said to me last week, “If only we spent as much time decorating our souls as we spend decorating our homes for Christmas.” There’s a lot of truth to that.
What are we decorating and why? Why are we buying and baking and giving?
What Christians are really preparing for is the arrival of our Savior—perhaps the ultimate test in patience. In this respect, the Christmas Season is a metaphor for Christian living. We share generously our gifts, serve our family and friends, remember the less fortunate, spread joy and good cheer, sing praises, all with the hope of someday meeting our Savior.
May we walk patiently through the remaining days of advent and beyond, using all of our Christmas preparations and celebrations as an opportunity to decorate our souls for Christ.
One of the exercises in the study involves learning the American Sign Language expressions for each of the nine fruits. The sign for patience brought me to tears. You make a fist, place it thumb side down on your upper lip and move your thumb down over your closed lips, stopping under your chin. It’s a little difficult to demonstrate in writing, but it looks like a sign for shut your mouth.
I think I wrote about this the last time I completed this study but it bears repeating. Patience means “Keep that sharp comment to yourself.” I should check my actions with that sign when I feel my patience dwindling.
Patience can be hard to come by for kids and adults in our house. We had to wait 20 minutes at a coffee drive through on Sunday morning and tension was so high by the time we received our order we barely mustered a thank you for the woman who handed us our drinks. Merry Christmas. God bless you!
It’s embarrassing to admit, but I know we aren’t alone. I watched two young women in a large SUV nearly run a sedan off south 7th street last week when the car wasn’t going fast enough. They eventually weaved hazardously through the traffic and roared past the “slow” car only to sit next to it at the very next stoplight.
Christmas is associated with a variety of feelings and states—joy, hope, generosity, peace. This year, I’m noticing how much Christmas has to teach us about patience. The word isn’t emblazoned on Christmas ornaments or stocking holders but Christmas is swaddled in manger of patience.
Adults need patience to manage the extensive list of Christmas preparations on top of our already packed everyday lives. We need patience to deal with crowded stores and streets and with additional bills. Sometimes we need patience to interact with family members we only see at the holidays.
For children, Christmas is a grueling test of patience. Weeks, days, hours and minutes creep by until the moment when they can finally rip the wrapping off their gifts or rush to the tree to see what Santa delivered.
Ultimately, though, these are small and relatively simple exercises in patience. A friend said to me last week, “If only we spent as much time decorating our souls as we spend decorating our homes for Christmas.” There’s a lot of truth to that.
What are we decorating and why? Why are we buying and baking and giving?
What Christians are really preparing for is the arrival of our Savior—perhaps the ultimate test in patience. In this respect, the Christmas Season is a metaphor for Christian living. We share generously our gifts, serve our family and friends, remember the less fortunate, spread joy and good cheer, sing praises, all with the hope of someday meeting our Savior.
May we walk patiently through the remaining days of advent and beyond, using all of our Christmas preparations and celebrations as an opportunity to decorate our souls for Christ.