Posts Filed Under Sports Shorts

Way back when, at the beginning of January, my husband had a bright idea for us to complete a 60-day fitness challenge. I drank some of his homemade wine and then agreed.

For 60-days straight, we would work-out every. Single. Day. Then go down to 5 days a week for a while, then 4 days a week for the rest of our lives. Oh, sorry. The. Rest. Of. Our. Lives.

It hasn’t been easy, but we’ve done it. Well, he’s done it and I’ve mostly done it. I missed 2 out of the 4 days when I was in Houston and then I missed another day after I weighed myself, punched the wall and screamed, “What’s the point?”

There have been a couple of times when my work-out consisted of a few sets of lunges and some push-ups and a couple of times when I battled the 14 year old in Just Dance in order to break a sweat, but for the most part…at least 50 of the last 60 days, have been intense; with a lot of strength-training, rowing, boxing, running, swimming, ellipticizing, biking, stepping, and generally wanting to punch my trainer in the face.

Oh, and a boatload of laundry. It’s all “Sweatin’ Because We’re Oldies” up in here.

Have I lost weight? Not much. I try not to weigh myself, because it just makes me angry. I see minor changes, though and I KNOW I’m doing the right thing. And since exercise is a whole lot mental, knowing is at least half the battle.

And, speaking of the correlation between mind and body, I have almost completely weaned myself off my Zoloft during this challenge. That’s a big deal. I’m figuring out how to reduce my anxiety without meds and have only thought I was going to die once. Just once!

I have learned that an easy work-out is not enough to keep the anxiety-demons at bay, it has to be a work-out so hard that I feel like I can’t get through it. It has to be intense and painful for my body in order for my mind to be eased. So, I have that going for me. It’s like I’m Atlas and I have the weight of the world on me and then I do some squats and just toss it; much in the same way that I toss around metaphors.

I can run farther (without stopping!) than I have in about 9 years and when I used to run past the fire station I thought that, for sure, I would see a paramedic come running after me with a defibrillator, but now I just cruise right past and the fire fighters stand outside and cheer for me. That last part may have been a dream, but I’m not sure.

I’ve learned a lot about myself in the last 2 months. I now know that it’s possible to live in a perpetual state of pain, that I should never go to the gym without my inhaler, and that I’m pretty damn driven when I actually put my mind to something.

Mostly, I’ve learned that drinking my husband’s homemade wine might cause me to make ridiculous, spur-of-the-moment decisions that actually end up benefiting me.  So bottoms up, people. Bottoms up.

Let’s Get Dirty!

posted by Momo Fali on February 22, 2013

Last month my husband and I started an intense fitness regimen with a personal trainer that includes strength training, interval cardio training, and one heck of lot of lunges. I’ve lost five whole pounds.

But, weight schmeight, what matters most is that I’M DOING IT and I feel good doing it. My pants are looser, my energy levels are higher, and for the first time in my life I can do a push-up. One. Push-up. Progress, people.

I’m no dummy, though. I know that if progress is slow I might get discouraged so I decided that I needed a goal to push me forward and, as always, I like my goals to be something fun. Really, I like everything to be fun. What? There will be lots of laughs? What time should I be there? I’ll bring the beer.

That’s why my next fitness goal involves laughs, beer, and a lot of mud.

I’m joining Team Pretty Muddy, a women’s-only, obstacle-course mud run, that will be stirring up a big mess in Columbus on September 14th!

With architectural obstacles, lots of mud and, what they describe as, an “Epic Finish Line Party” (Entertainment, music, drinks & celebration galore), this is just the way I’d like to show how fit I’ve become. Plus, I still have six months to work on my upper-arm strength. I’ll bet I can do seven push-ups by then!

Won’t you join me? Let’s get dirty! Register now to get $10 off!

A Torn Uvula – NSFQ (Not Suitable for the Queasy)

posted by Momo Fali on February 7, 2013

The Scene: 8th Grade Girls vs. Moms Basketball Game, Sometime Before I Did a Deep-Lunge and Traveled at the Same Time

The Culprit: Happy New Year Cardboard Horn for Use in Cheering for Mom’s Team

The Victim: My 10 Year-Old Son, Previously of Putting-His-Teeth-Through-His-Chin Fame and Known for Stopping a Skateboard with His Face

The Incident: A Fall While Holding the Horn in His Mouth, and a Traumatic Injury to the Uvula

The Result: Advil for Both of Us and an Extra Serving of Zoloft for Mom

Giving Double-Dribble a Whole New Meaning

posted by Momo Fali on January 20, 2013

My 14 year old daughter is finishing up her 8th grade basketball season and last week, among the many emails from her future high school, current teachers, and summer camps, there was a message from her basketball coach that stood out from the rest.

It said that the girls needed to work on their rebounding, it gave the practice schedule for the week, and then there…at the bottom…I read a little, golden nugget; plans for a mothers vs. daughters basketball game.

Aw, yeah!

At the final practice of the season, a pack of 40-something, prone-to-get-distracted-by-wine, possibly-running-the-court-while-wearing-walking-boots, women will be taking on a sprightly bunch of teens. I can’t wait.

For one, it gives me ample excuse to embarrass my daughter. We’re planning to wear tube socks. And, maybe silk shorts.

It will also give me a chance to show off my impressive wing-span. They don’t call me “Orangutan Arms” for nothing!

And, lastly, even though it is highly likely that we will get our butts kicked, there is an ever so slight chance that we will have eternal bragging rights.

Not to mention that I finally get a chance to wear my headband again.

Bring it, girls.