It’s Not a Spectator Sport

I started exercising.

Recently.   Again.

Yes, I know.  It was long overdue.  I finally got tired of being tired and decided that something had to give.  It does little good to eat healthy and take good supplements and make other wise choices if you–ahem–if I am huffing going up one flight of stairs.

Not good.

So in the middle of my late night TV watching online, a commercial played almost constantly about the free 30 day trial for this video program.

Okay, universe, trying to tell me something?

It intrigued me because it is customizable.  It’s easy to stream on any device, including a smartphone…..and then there was that whole FREE thing.  If I didn’t like it, no harm no foul, right?

I chose the style of instructor I would like (friend over drill sergeant) and assured the program over and over that I AM A BEGINNER.

I’ve stuck with it pretty good, impressing myself.  Even when two days in, Cooter sat on my lap and I yelled so loud from the pain I scared everyone, including myself.  I’m getting there.  And it feels good to have it done each day.  (Notice I did NOT say it felt good to DO it each day.)

Cooter has started coming in and finding me wherever I plop down the screen and myself to do the daily routine (which switches up each day–I really, really like that part of it).  He doesn’t always wake up in time, but when he does, his grin is huge and he enjoys adding to the instructor’s commentary.

Oh me.

I have assured my little guy that this is not a spectator sport, but for some reason, he’s not grasping that concept.  This morning he tried to call our Princess in to watch with him.  He told her it was funny.  She came to the door, peeped in at me with her still sleep-filled eyes and said, “I don’t see anything funny,” and wandered back to her bed.  Good girl.

I’ve gotten used to his teasing.  I tease back.  Maybe there’s some cardiovascular benefit to all that teasing, who knows.  But he likes to ask a lot of questions.  “Why does he (the instructor) keep saying ‘You know your body better than anybody?'”  “Mama, why aren’t you drinking your water like he said?”  “What are glutes?”  “Are you stretching the right way?”

Day before yesterday he was watching me and the screen back and forth.  He sits next to where I have the video playing, so he has to watch it almost upside down from that position.  It’s funny to watch him.  When I’m doing whatever the instructor Justin and his three students are doing, I don’t watch the screen.  The right to left thing and the momentum they have throws me off.  So I watch what I should be doing once, and then I begin, only listening to what Justin is saying, but I don’t watch lest I get my arms and legs in a tangle.  Not that that has ever happened.  Ahem.

I was in my own world, doing what the group was doing when I heard Cooter repeat what Justin had just said.

“Mama, Lee (another student) is going the extra mile.  She has her arm up in the air.  Mama, PUT YOUR ARM UP IN THE AIR!”

Excuse me.  I signed up for a “friend” not the “drill sergeant.”

Nevertheless, I was not going to be outdone by Lee so I raised my arm in the air with everything else I was doing.

And I didn’t topple over or anything.  It actually was pretty okay.  And Cooter looked pleased.

Oh that smile.  What it does to my heart.

Our children are paying attention.  They know when we’re giving it the token try or putting our all into something.  Don’t ask me how they know, I have no idea.  The point is, they do.

Tonight I’m thankful for Cooter and for his *ahem* encouragement with my exercising.  I am thankful for the laughs he shares with me in the midst of my messy sweating and huffing and puffing and uncoordinated steps.  The laughter may or may not be physically beneficial, but it sure does wonders for my spirit.  Most of all, I’m thankful that he called me out.  I want for my children to remember me as someone who went the “extra mile.”  It’s time I start acting like it.

May we all remember the little people are watching and give them something wonderful to see and smile about.

 

Love to all.

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2 thoughts on “It’s Not a Spectator Sport

  1. Pingback: The One About Cleaning Up the Trail and Sitting on My Pity Pot | I Might Need A Nap

  2. Pingback: Catharsis | I Might Need A Nap

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