I’m Just a (Wo)Man in a Silly Red Sheet

Ah…spring. The time during which my body thinks it can do anything, only to find out…it can’t.

Since recovering from the plagues in February and March and shedding the overall doldrums of winter, I’ve been hitting the exercise pretty hard the last few weeks. I want my arms tank-top ready and my legs North Country Trail ready…NOW.

But…Humpty Lynn has fallen off the wall…again.

I mowed the lawn a few weeks ago. Yeah. That was a reeeeallly dumb thing to do. Unless you’re using a riding mower, it’s probably not in your best interest as a person with torn rotator cuffs to use a NON-self-propelled lawn mower to cut down grass the height of swamp weeds and just as wet.

Most of the time I’m judicious with my strength training, doing what my physical therapist prescribed a few years ago: swapping hand weights for TheraBands. But…you know…when you feel kinda good and you’ve been cooped up in a long winter…well…you start thinking you’re not as messed up as you are. You think, perhaps, you’re superhuman.

So SuperLynn mowed the lawn. Two weeks later, my left shoulder is still saying, “Really, Lynn? Seriously? What the h*ll were you thinking?”

I remember when my grandma felt so good while on her blood pressure medication that she decided she didn’t need it anymore, not understanding, of course, that it was THE MEDICINE that was making her feel good. Two weeks later, she had a heart attack.

My joint “medicine” is moderate exercise, but my brain…dang brain…loves LOVES intense exercise. I like pounding the crap out of my body, I admit it. When I lost all that weight, man, it felt AMAZING to push and push and push my thighs and calves and shoulders and abs and traps and biceps and triceps to the edge. I’d never done anything like it in my weighted life.

Then when osteoarthritis starting taking over joint after joint like the creeping Charlie in my yard, I modified my exercise routine. Surprise, surprise, my body rewarded me with less pain! But modifying also threw off the “calories expended” part of the weight-loss/weight-maintenance ratio. Clearly I consumed more calories than I expended this year because I’ve gained 8 pounds. And try as I might, I cannot get back to my lowest weight – the one at which I beat the crap out of my body – without beating the crap out of my body.

At some point in most of our lives, there are obstacles to healthy living. They can be physical, emotional or both; temporary or permanent. It’s what we choose to do in the moment of most difficulty that steers our intentions. Obviously I’m not always mindful of what my intentions are, otherwise I wouldn’t be icing my biceps tendon.

My intention to lose 8 pounds is not unwise, but losing it at the expense of my body is that second arrow the Buddha warned of. As I wrote in September, the Buddhist teaching of the second arrow is that when we encounter pain (when we’re shot with the first arrow), we have the choice of how we handle that pain. We can blame or whine or indulge (hello chocolate cake!) as we run away from the pain (thus shooting ourselves with the second arrow), or we can experience the pain of the first arrow and live from within that pain, working out the best course of action that will not further our suffering.

God knows we have enough to deal with with that first arrow than having to work around the emotional complications of the second one. So…once again (and how many times have I done this in four years?), I’m reminding myself to stay mindful of my intentions, and to: 1) see the good, the bad and the ugly of my body and treat it with respect; 2) not beat myself up for 8 pounds; and 3) stop thinking of myself as superhuman.

That is…until the next time Humpty Lynn falls, and she will. Because she is me, and I am nothing if not human.

A Quick and “Linky” Monday Post

Hello from the other side of chocolate hell! I made it through Easter relatively unscathed by the malted milk ball/Reese’s Peanut Butter egg/Cadbury/Lindt/Dove/chocolate-bunnies-on-a-motorcycle onslaught. Phew! I wish I could say the same about the cheesy potatoes at Cassie’s house and the ones I made for Mark and his kids, but that’s why there’s exercise. And restraint. The carb fest was a one-day event and its remnants will only linger a day or two.

I read some potentially good news on the clothing size front this morning in the New York Times. In “One Size Fits Nobody: Seeking a Steady 4 or a 10,” Stephanie Clifford writes about a company that offers a full body scan to determine what size you would fit into in a number of major clothing stores. It’s a good start, but I’d like to see standardized sizing like they have in Europe. In the meantime, I wouldn’t mind trying the scan. I get so frustrated trying on jeans especially.

“Some brands are taking their own approaches to make the fitting room less demoralizing. Mary Alderete, vice president for women’s global marketing at Levi’s, said, ‘When we try on 10 pairs of jeans to buy one, the reason you feel bad is because you think something’s wrong with you.’”

Exactly. I have size 6, 8 and 10 jeans in my closet and they all fit. These aren’t my “skinny” or “fat” day jeans. They each measure the same waist and hip size. So frustrating that I have to go through so many sizes in each brand to find what works. I know I’m not alone.

Don’t even get me started on vanity sizing…

If you haven’t listened yet, I was recently interviewed by the awesome duo of Carla (MizFit) and Shauna (The Amazing Adventures of Diet Girl) for their podcast Two Fit Chicks and a Microphone! It was by far my favorite interview ever. LOVE those two, AND…I get to meet them next month at FitBloggin ’11! Any of you bloggers going?

Speaking of bloggers, I've recently been turned on to The Healthy Skeptic written by Chris Kessler, an accupuncturist and Chinese medicinal practitioner. I've been enjoying his series "9 Steps to Perfect Health," especially #9: Practice Pleasure:

“In their book Feeling Good Is Good For You, researchers Carl J. Charnetski and Francis X Brennan set out to review the emerging evidence that pleasure can boost our immune systems and lengthen our lives. According to the authors: ‘In every way, stress is the antithesis of pleasure. It jangles your nerves, juggles a whole host of your body’s hormones, elevates your blood pressure, and makes your pulse race… It also weakens your immune system’s ability to resist illness and disease.’

“If stress is the antithesis of pleasure, then it follows that pleasure is the antithesis of stress. So the best way to fight stress is with pleasure.”

I know I'm guilty of reserving pleasure for when I feel I "deserve" it. But deriving and enjoying some bit of pleasure every day should not be a reward. It is necessary for our emotional and physical health.

Today's bit of pleasure for me will be planting a few pansies, my favorite annual. What will you do for yourself today?

One final link. My favorite quote this week comes from Cammy over at Tippy Toe Diet: "This mindful living thing can sure get in the way of a good time sometimes." Yes, yes it can :)

Happy spring, everyone! Hope you all get some much-deserved outdoor time in the upcoming days.

Revisiting the Size 28s

Reader Rebecca wrote to me the other day asking this question: “I was wondering your thoughts on getting rid of clothes that don't fit as one loses weight. As I continue on my weight loss journey, I find myself fearful of actually letting go of my larger sized clothes.”

I thought it best to repost last year’s “Ode to My Size 28 Stretch Pants,” because this is a question I get asked a lot. I hope you’ll forgive the repost, but sometimes it’s good to be reminded why we’re doing all this weight loss/maintenance, right? (I apologize there are no photos. I will try to post them later. Blogger is being a bugger today...ugh.)

From March 2010

I recently asked the folks on Lynn’s Weigh on Facebook what they do with clothes that no longer fit as they lose weight. Most folks said they give them away (Debra suggested the organization Dress For Success), which is what I eventually did, but it took awhile for me to trust myself not to need them again.

Getting rid of old clothes is empowering, but I strongly urge you to keep one item of clothing to remind you where you’ve been and how far you’ve come, especially on those days when you struggle and think, Why am I doing this?

I kept one lone item of clothing from my 300-pound days: my size 28 black stretch pants. I wore them every day. They were my constant companion. They even went with me to the Adirondacks where I allowed my husband to take the only full-body photo of me at my highest weight (see “I *Heart* Burlington, Vermont” for the full story).

My size 28 black stretch pants were literally stretched to their limit. As I grew larger, holes began to form. Stains no longer washed out. I didn’t know it at the time, but those holes and stains reflected how I felt about myself, namely that I wasn’t worth taking care of.

Eventually I invested in Weight Watchers rather than another new wardrobe, but my confidence level was still pretty low. Fifty pounds into my weight loss, I was still wearing my old size 28 wardrobe. I posted on the WW discussion board (the 100+ To Lose board was my salvation) that my clothes bagged significantly, but that I wasn’t sure if I should buy new clothes or wait. I felt guilty about spending the money since I wasn’t convinced I wouldn’t gain it all back, and sadly I’d given away all my smaller clothes as I marched up the scale, convinced I’d be morbidly obese the rest of my life. (*See my side story at the end of this blog.)

A WW board member named CrispyRice encouraged me to invest in a few things in a smaller size. She said wearing clothes that fit would help me see the results of my weight loss, which in turn would encourage me to keep going. She also told me to not buy all black – my typical “hiding” color – and to shop at Goodwill and other second-hand shops.


Her advice was spot on. Not only did I feel good about buying a smaller size – a pair of size 24 khaki shorts and a white XL shirt (down from 3X) – I felt smaller in lighter colors and wearing fabric close to my skin as opposed to it hanging limp and devoid of form.

More importantly, I felt confident in my new, smaller clothes. Confident that I’d no longer need my larger sized wardrobe. Confident that I wasn’t gaining my weight back, not if I had anything to say about it. I bagged up the 28s and the 30/32 pant suit and gave them to Goodwill, all except for the size 28 black stretch pants – which, lest you think me tacky, I wouldn’t have actually given away given their condition. But I didn’t throw them away, either, because we have a history. They elicit the same feelings I have about photographs or special gifts.

My size 28 black stretch pants are my friend. I was wearing them the moment I joined WW online. They were on camera with me when I was on Today (both times) and Entertainment Tonight (crazy, I know) when I was promoting the People magazine's “Half Their Size” issue in 2008. And as my friend, my pants help me through those days when I wonder: Why am I doing this? Why do I journal my food? Why do I eat the way I do? Why do I (usually) say no to chocolate cake, mac n’ cheese, and half in half in my coffee? I love those things!

“Ah,” say the size 28 black stretch pants, “but you love yourself even more.”

See why we’re BFF?

(*Side story: The only exception to giving all my smaller clothes away as I was gaining weight the last time, was a size 16 lined suit that I’d only worn once. I called it my “dream suit.” When I was 300 pounds, I dreamed that it would one day fit again, but dreaming was all I did about my weight for several years. When I started to lose weight, that suit became my “goal suit.” I tried it on every other week when I got down to 200 pounds. I used the zipper as a gage for how many inches I was losing. When I was 180, I moved and I got so busy unpacking that I forgot about my goal suit. By the time I dug it out, I weighed around 155 and it was too big. Sigh. I missed my window of opportunity. But I still honor it for the icon it was, even though it’s probably hanging in someone else’s closet.)

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Congrats to reader “kadywood” who won the the Angie Miller “Crave Results” DVD giveaway! Thank you to all of you who threw your names in the hat to win. Cassie, Carlene and I are working on new reviews, so there will be more opportunities to win a workout DVD that will shake your routine up.

Getting Back in the Cardio Game (and a DVD giveaway inside!)

What a difference a winter makes…and not in a good way. I took my bike out today for a spin to see if anything other than the tires needed some attention and realized, it’s not the bike that needs attention. It’s my lungs!

I was breathing pretty hard when I got home…TEN minutes later (hanging head in shame). Granted, I’m recovering from bronchitis, but considering my friend Shari had the same dang thing only a week ahead of me and is now running 11 miles, clearly it is my aerobic capacity in general that is in question here.

This winter I’ve walked when the weather wasn’t too cold and I rode the stationary bike, but there’s nothing…NOTHING…like down and dirty hard-core aerobic exercise. The sweating-by-8-minutes-and-not-stopping-for-45 kind of movement that gets those lungs burning and in shape.

…sigh…tear…dusting myself off…

I’m no quitter. There’s no time like now to get it back. My knee feels better, the weather is improving, I’m on it. I’ve nailed my strength training so I’m tank-top ready by May, so it’s time to get bike-and-hike ready, too.

I totally forgot to tell you all who won the last DVD giveaway here on Lynn’s Weigh. Congrats to AnneG who won 10-Minute Solution, DebbyS who won Walk Away The Pounds Express, and KR who won Prego-Fit and Fabulous. I went to the post office today and mailed them, which led to an interesting conversation with the postal employee:

“These are light. What are they? DVDs?” Postal Employee asked.

“Yes, they are,” I said. “I have a blog and get sent DVDs to review once in awhile. These are the latest winners.”

“So you’re, like, a movie critic?”

“No!” I laughed. “They’re exercise videos.”

“Oh, well, I could use that,” she said. “I tell myself that tomorrow I’ll start. Tomorrow I’ll start dieting and exercising. But tomorrow never comes.”

“I know,” I said. “Because every day is today.”

She looked at me and smiled. “You know, you’re right.”

Now whether she starts today, I don’t know. But maybe, just maybe, she’ll make a small commitment to move a little more today than yesterday.

If today is your day, or if you are looking for a new workout routine, daughter Cassie is back for another DVD review: Angie Miller’s “Crave Results.”

To say Cassie liked this DVD it is an understatement. If she had her way, you’d ALL win! If you want to throw your name in the hat, leave a comment or send an email to lynn.haraldson@gmail.com. (Please note the new email address.) I’ll draw a winner (and announce it, too) on Thursday.

Wow! I'm super impressed with this DVD. I just finished doing Jillian Michael's “30 Day Shred Challenge,” which was 30 days of nonstop Jillian. While I like Jillian's approach to training, which is "Move it or lose it," Angie Miller is something I've never experienced before. And I've done a lot of workout DVDs.

I thought the only way to motivate was how they did when I was in the Army, which was, “GET YOUR ASS IN GEAR NOW!” But I was wrong. Angie Miller is positive. And not in a "You can do it!" cheerleader way. She's calm and endearing. I'm really in awe. And I'm sweating.

She breaks her workouts down into blocks, each one ending in a cardio burst. She combines arms and legs at the same time, which is nice, but is difficult if you lack coordination. (That would be me. I'd never be an aerobics star.) But she makes it so that anyone can do it by performing the movement slow for several counts before bringing it up to tempo.

She's also a really graceful woman to watch. Clearly she does Pilates and yoga. She also incorporates that into her workout. She reminds you to breathe and tells you to keep a long spine and to keep your shoulders back. All of those things keep your chest open, so when she does curtsy lunges with pulses, you won't die.

I was amazed at how fast the workout went. It is 63 minutes long, or, if you want, you can choose from some preset options. I was ready to keep going even after it was done. But I was sweating! Boy was I sweating.

Her core workout isn't anything you'd expect. There's a mat, yes, but it's not what you think. Her core work includes balance work (which is HARD but so worth it!) pushups, and planks. I didn't do a single crunch.

Her arm work routine is also very original. The triceps work is unique, but also has some traditional kick-backs. She also has you doing dead lifts with dumbbell flies. Everything works together seamlessly and while you're exerting maximum effort, you feel good. And when I say good, I'm talking, it's an endorphin party in my muscles.

Yup. I'm pretty much in love with this DVD.
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Lynn's Note: For the record, I'm not paid to review DVDs. I do it because I'm always looking for new workout ideas :) I give away the actual DVD that is reviewed...I don't even get to keep it! LOL

Check out Angie Miller's blog at Angie Miller In the Moment.

Learning The “Ropes”

This week was filled with those first warm spring days in which you can’t help but smile every time you breathe.

I moved into the left side of this 100-year-old duplex last November when nature had gone dormant and so had I.

Six months later, buds are budding, birds are nesting, flowers are blooming, and my seasonal affective disorder has migrated for another year.

Gardening is an old friend, and it’s been especially comforting this year as I learn my way through this unfamiliar new life. Along with patient friends and a supportive family, what sustained me through the unusually harsh winter were thoughts of what was lying in my new yard beneath its snow and leaves and decay of last year’s growth.

‘What are you hiding and what might we grow together?’

This week we finally got acquainted, my yard and me, when I raked up, dug up, and pruned five 30-gallon bags worth of compostable material, and surveyed the early spring perennials and the beds in which they have emerged. I planned (at least in my head because god knows I’ll change my mind a hundred times when I walk into a nursery) what annuals I will plant come May and how much mulch I’ll need.

….ahhhhhh….I heart spring!

I watched, for the hundredth time, this video when I was with the g-babies the other day. It always makes me smile.



Spring is here, in all its complexity. It’s not perfect this year, it’s not what I expected, but it’s here nonetheless. And you know what? That’s gotta be OK because Mother Nature’s not asked any of us for our opinion.

Soooo….in getting all cool with my yard, I realized that gardening is familiar, but lawn work is not. The people who lived on the other side of the duplex – the ones who shoveled the walks this winter and would mow the yard this year – bought a house and moved out a few weeks ago, leaving yours truly with the keys to the shed. So a few days after doing what was familiar – gardening – I took on the unfamiliar. Mowing.

I earned my allowance and spending money cutting grass as a kid, but I haven’t pushed a mower in 30 years, let alone start one.

I heaved the mower from the shed and looked for some kind of button thingy that I remember pushing to prime the engine for easier starting. Apparently that went out with the dinosaur, and mowers have advanced in this post-ice-age technology.

I knew to hold up the metal bar on the handle and hang on to it as I pulled the rope to start it. But the motor was having none of it. After several attempts, I concluded that I was either A) too weak to pull the rope hard enough (why is self-depreciation always the first option?). But I assured myself that I work out diligently and am strong, so that really wasn’t an option; or B) I wasn’t priming it the right way.

“Hey, neighbor, want some help starting that thing?” a voice called from over the fence.

‘Crap,’ I thought. I couldn’t hide my mower-starting efforts with all the grunting and such and a motor taunting me with every pull: “Ummm….no. Ummmm…no. Try again. Ummm…..no.” My need for help was transparent.

I swallowed my self-consciousness and called back over the fence, “Yes, I could use some help.”

Mr. Neighbor came over, and within a few minutes, had the mower running. Like a patient father, he showed me how to move the throttle on the handle to start the mower properly. He insisted I try it myself a few times, and while that felt a little weird (I’m 47 for godsake!), I adjusted the handle throttle and pulled the rope and…by golly…it started every time! On the outside I was totally cool, but secretly inside I was doing a HUGE happy dance.

By the time my lesson was over, it was getting late and I had plans. No time to mow. So I dragged the mower to the porch and figured I’d get ‘r done first thing after the g-babies arrived today.

“This is Grammy’s mower!” I said to Claire and Luca, pushing the red monstrosity on to the yard. “You two stand back while I start it, OK?”

Moments later….

“What’s wrong, Grammy?” asked Claire. “Why won’t it start?”

Pull. Pull. PUUUUULLLL! Dammmmmmit!

I looked at them. They looked at me.

“Grammy, why can’t you start it?” Claire asked again.

….Sigh…

What I’d normally have done is swear a lot and kick the tires and blame the machine. But I had a 3- and 2-year-old depending on me to be a responsible grandmother, so I took a deep breath and went over in my head yesterday’s instructions.

“Pull the throttle up to start and, holding this bar, move it down to get maximum power.”

I pulled the throttle forward, pulled the rope and YAY!! Mower power ensued! Vrrrooooom, vvvvvroom! Eureka!

Luca was impressed. He followed me all over the yard. Claire just gathered my hand tools and went to the driveway to dig up rocks. But the point is, I mowed my lawn – the first lawn in 30 years – and I did it well. I learned there are water-logged dips in the middle of my yard and water-deprived inclines. Whoever lived here before had a dog or three because there are clear indications of “This is my place to pee” dog markings.

But all in all, I think my yard and I are going to get along juuuuuust fine. In fact, I’ve gone outside more than a few times today or peeked through the blinds just to admire my “work.” God knows my shoulders and hamstrings are shot right now. Thank goodness for Advil. But I’ll adjust.

Hopefully we have a long summer ahead, full of gardening and mowing opportunities. I look forward to that planned peace.

Life, as my sister-in-law always reminds me, is good. It really is. Rough and bumpy as my lawn? Yes. Uncertain as spring? Yes. But we’re doing it and living it every day, so why not progress in those day-by-day infinitesimal moments by deciding to learn how to…for lack of a better metaphor…prime the mower the right way and start it?

***********SIDE NOTE!**************

Claire made the “That’s Church” blog today! That’s Church is a blog about everything Pittsburgh, and is written by the always honest and very funny Virginia Montanez.

Claire dictated a letter to her mom (my amazing daughter Cassie) for Pittsburgh Penguins player Sidney Crosby while he was recovering from his “brain boo boo,” as Claire calls it (a concussion). She included this picture she made for him, too:

The Pens sent her an autographed photo of Sid, and it’s become more important to her than her two previous favorite things: blanket and chickipoo.

Go Pens! Or as Luca says, “Uh, uh, PENS!!”

Rediscovery, Redefining

For four years, I’ve been known as "That Woman Who’s Lost A Lot Of Weight." While my weight loss is something I truly am grateful for and I am happy my story has inspired a few of you along your own weight-loss journeys, for awhile now, I’ve felt like weight loss is who I am. So over the last few weeks, I’ve been examining what it is I’m truly passionate about, what it is that also defines me.

What I love so much about writing, particularly writing blogs, is that I have access to years ago – a concrete record of what I was thinking/dreaming/analyzing at a specific point in time. It is how the me of yesteryear has often taught, mentored and guided the present me. The following is a blog I wrote for ZenBagLady, one I’d forgotten about until today when I searching for a different piece of writing. But it seems to me that I was supposed to find this one. Reading it was a big step in helping me remember what I’m passionate about.

Remember, your weight doesn’t define you, just as weight loss isn’t who I am; it’s a part of the whole.

The Gleefle That Sneefed – Lynn in First Grade

In my report card dated June 5, 1970, my teacher, Mrs. Marlene Larson, wrote: “Lynn is a good natured and friendly child who is most considerate when associating with her peers…She completes the majority of her assignments with a high degree of accuracy.” It was Mrs. Larson’s nice way of saying, “Lynn is a bit high strung and nervous. She hates conflict, hates to make mistakes, and seems to be growing a large stick out her ass.”

Ah, the good old days.

Academically, first grade was my favorite year ever. That’s when I learned how to write the alphabet, then words, then stories. I apparently was quite good at math, too, but it didn’t take long for my right brain to eat up most of my left brain, and in future years my math skills went in the toilet.

But I could write!

“In our creative writing program,” wrote Mrs. Larson, “Lynn can express her ideas through written communication. Her stories are indicative of advancement in the use of capitalization and punctuation technique.” Not exactly a rave review of the content of my stories, but it’s good to know my love of grammar was apparent from the beginning.

My parents kept a few of my stories. Here are a few I wrote in first grade, verbatim. In a few instances I put the real word in parenthesis so you don’t struggle in guessing what the heck the misspelled word is.

Jan. 28, 1970
My friend
"I have a friend who lives in Omaha her name is Teela her est (used) to live here with me I love her very much her love me to"

OK, so my grammar sucks in that one, but Teela is still my friend (although she doesn’t live in Omaha anymore), and look at the next one and how much my punctuation improved in just a few weeks.

LynnH
March 6, 1970
"If I want to go to the moon I wood see. Captain kangaroo and Donald Duck and Mickey Mouse. And the Man in the moon. That’s how Mane (many). I liked it."

Some girls wrote of becoming a princess. I wrote about seeing Captain Kangaroo on the moon. I was probably inspired by the moon landing seven months prior. Dad and Mom woke up my little brother and I and carried us out to the living room to watch it. Dad said, “Remember this, kids. This is history.” What I remember is sucking my thumb and rubbing my soft white blankie and staring at the black and white TV, too sleepy to think. But somewhere in the back of my mind I was formulating a story. Granted, I was no Phil Nowlan (creator of Buck Rogers), but it’s fun to see that 6-year-old Lynn thought outside the box. I need to tap into my inner child more often, apparently.

This next story was no doubt inspired by my love for Dr. Seuss books. I wish I could remember what was going on in my head as I wrote this because it is incomplete. Either I wasn’t given enough time or I wasn’t given enough space to explain what “sneefing” is. The Gleefle went to the zoo and I’m sure he meant to “sneef” while at the zoo, but he apparently didn’t get past the pig exhibit.

LynnH
May 2, 1970
The Gleefle that Sneefed
"Once upon a time there lived a. Gleefle and he was going to the zoo. He saw a big pig his is a big fat one to."

Sneefing could mean so many things. Maybe that’s what my ex- husband was doing in 1970 when he and his friends got stoned at ZZ Top concerts on the beach in Galveston. Perhaps Nixon was sneefing in the White House.

This has potential as a creative writing assignment: finish the Gleefle story and define “sneef.” Care to post your ideas?

I’ve not known a time when I didn’t write. Throughout school, my grades in language and reading were always top notch, and I’ve kept a journal since fifth grade. I once thought about being a veterinarian, a marketing major, and a teacher, but always, always, I went back to writing. Yes, I am still uptight and anxious, and that stick is still there much of the time, but writing has always been a release, a way for me to understand who I am. I appreciate it for the gift it is.

What were you passionate about as a kid? Did you recognize it then and does your career or educational path reflect that passion? As always, post a comment or send me an email. And don’t forget to make your best guess about “sneefing.”

“In the clearing stands a boxer…”

Whoever invented Dave & Busters is a genius. Chuck E. Cheese with a bar? How did I not know of this place before?

We had tickets to see John Heffron at the Improv Saturday night, and Mark suggested we go early and play some games at Dave & Busters first. Sounded fun. I figured we’d play a few games of air hockey, shoot a few hoops… I wasn’t expecting to shoot skeleton aliens or knock out a couple of cartoon boxers or rack up 200+ tickets just because I knew Colin Mochrie was on “Whose Line Is It Anyway?” before anyone else at the table. (All that time spent playing trivia at the bar after work with my coworkers back in the ‘90s really paid off…lol!)

My upper body had gotten a little jiggly over the winter, so I’ve been working my shoulders, arms and back pretty hard the last three weeks in preparation for tank top season. I’d not yet put my arms to the test in terms of strength until Mark led me to the boxing game, grinned, and said, “Put on the gloves.”

“Me? Box?” I said. “You’re joking right?

“No! he laughed. "Put on the gloves!”

I looked around. ‘Well…OK,’ I thought. The place was dark and chaotic, kids were running around everywhere. I figured there was no safer place to look like a fool.

I set my drink on the table, put on the gloves, and took my stance over the foot imprints on the floor pad. Mark swiped his card to buy a game, and next thing I knew, there was a big angry man wearing a mouth guard staring at me from the screen.

Now I’m not a violent person, but moving my feet and ducking my head to “avoid” getting hit, and the power I felt in my arms with every punch was intoxicating. A few times I must have done something right because I TKO’d the guy twice. One, two, three…punch, punch, punch…twenty eight, twenty nine (“Go, Lynn!” Mark yelled), thirty! I put my arms down, blinked a few times, and felt a trickle of sweat go down my back. Did I really work that hard in just five minutes? Apparently so. What a rush!

I took off the gloves and went to pick up my drink, only someone had drank what was left of my wine. Good thing I didn’t see them do it in the moment I was knocking out that angry cartoon man. My endorphins might have knocked him out, too!

My friends and kids are always telling me how much they love video gaming systems for exercise. Virtual tennis, skiing, baseball, boxing, etc. But like Fergie sang, I’m so 2000 and late. I exercise old school – machines, weights, outdoor activities. If I’d known inside exercise could be this fun, though, I’d have gotten on the Wii bandwagon a long time ago. Now I’ll be asking the family for a system for my birthday *grin*.

Do any of you engage in virtual exercise? Do you feel challenged, like you’ve gotten a good workout? What are your favorites?