Turn and face the strange.

So, stuff is changing around here. The biggest change (from your point of view) is that this journal thing is going to be at bitterdiatribe very soon. All I have to do is decide on a layout, port over a billion entries or so, and figure out how to install a redirector here. I’m sorry for moving twice in three months, but re-entering the Internet is proving to be more difficult than anticipated. Also, I’m lazy.

The other change is my new(ish) exercise regimen, which is KICKING MY ASS. It turns out that jumping rope is… well, it’s not for the faint of limb. I thought I’d sail right into it, because come on — small children can jump rope for hours, including fancy double-rope techniques and crazy choreographed criss-crossing of the rope mid-jump. Also, I’ve been feeling pretty smug about mainting my running-and-Pilates routine, which led me to believe that I am in shape.


Jumping rope is hard, y’all. It’s so hard that I have to break up my pathetic ten minutes a day into ten one-minute units. It turns out that after 65 very slow, very plain, very awkward jumps, I am completely tapped out. And it turns out that after a couple of days of this pathetic attempt at cardio, I am required to lurch about like a zombie because my ankles, knees, and hips are so stiff and sore that I’m considering titanium replacements. For some reason, my right elbow is also excruciatingly painful; it’s like tennis elbow, except it comes from the minimal exertion of swinging a lightweight rope around. I am just too cool for words.

My next step is to buy a hula-hoop. I have decided that if I have to do this much exercise, it’s going to be fun and it’s going to be easy to do in my kitchen. A side effect of these requirements appears to be that anything fun and kitchen-ready also makes me look like a graceless idiot while doing it, but my heart is going to thanks me. Yes, it is. In fact, I think I’d like to get that in writing — “Dear Sara, Keep it up! I’ll thank you in six months or so! Love, Your Heart.”

I’m skipping my scheduled running time today, by the way, because ow. I don’t plan to skip it regularly — that would sort of defeat the purpose of “adding” the rope jumping — but I am in some serious pain this morning. I’ve considered calling my nieces in for a consult; it seems like I just must be doing this wrong. Jumping rope should not cause this much whimpering. Until I figure all this (websites, jump ropes, and hula hoops, oh my), this is Gimpy McGee… signing off.

(Oh, you wanted some amusement? Fine. Go read about Stuff White People Like. Whiners.)


ETA: Here, have a funny story used as a thinly veiled device for narcissistic posting of an IM conversation!

sara says:
so you know how when kids jump rope they do this… double-jump thing? one jump to clear the rope, one jump to kill time until the rope comes back down?
jess says:
sara says:
oh. well, they do.
jess says:
i haven’t put a lot of thought into jump rope since i was 10 or so.
sara says:
and let me assure you that falling directly onto the hard floor, nose-first, in no way impairs one’s inherent grace or stunning good looks

This is not going well.


3 Responses to Turn and face the strange.

  1. rjb says:

    Well, you’re doing better than I am, my friend. Since I began a pain management regimen a few months ago and no longer needed (extensive, bizarre, and challenging stretching rituals) every morning just to be able to cope w/ pain & move sufficiently to face life, I have sorta stopped exercising. However, now that one of my meds has been eliminated, I am finding myself (impaired) once more, yet utterly lacking any and all motivation to do anything. Ever. I dunno if you can find cool people near you to do it with, but have you considered fire dancing? You could even get some non-fire poi (or make some with a tennis ball & a long sock) & a book or DVD and do it yourself. It can be an intense cardio workout, but not feel like the total drudgery that is “exercising” (something you, it seems, may have overcome). I adore fire, but clearly not more than I abhor exercise, because I have yet to fully implement this plan.

  2. rjb says:

    Oh, and if you do, I know that (among my friends, anyway) kids can get involved @around age 8-10, which is adorable. My friend’s kid Sierra is about 9 and she now dances with the adults, dipping her own baton & everything. While these children are the children of freaks (lovely freaks), they are extremely socially well-adjusted and cute.

  3. sarawr says:

    I only sort of tangentially know someone who does poi (I went to junior high/high school with her and then didn’t see her for years until she started occasionally popping up at my stoner friends’ houses), and there aren’t classes available around here. I could, however, when next I have cash, order an instructional video (if there is such a thing) and use your tube-sock/tennis ball idea. I’m always looking for ways to work out that a) make me look like a clumsy ass, and b) are both unique and fun. I hate running in a way because every time I bring it up the other runners on the planet want to get all detailed (“Oh, you run? How many miles? What’s your best time? How do you stretch, what’s your favorite track, what’s your peak heart rate?”) and it drives me insane. Exercise is necessary and can be fun but if I get too granular about it I find myself both unhealthily obsessed and bored.

    When it gets warmer Michael and I are going to re-institute nighttime tag and hide-and-seek on campus with Connor, because until I get a real job it’s not like the kid has to be up early and we are both the worst and most fun parents ever. I like doing kid stuff as exercise because I can wear silly childish clothes in the name of “workout attire” and also pretend I am eight years old in my great-grandmothers backyard. Whatever works, right?

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