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“ I remember sitting on the steps at the top in our old house and smelling your blueberry muffins.“

One of my kids said that to me the other day and it conjured up really, really warm and happy memories of good times with my children when they were young. Six kids under the age of eight.

I used to make blueberry muffins and chocolate chip cookies frequently when they were little children.I love being a mom. And I have fond memories myself of things that they did and said, tears they cried, giggles they had together, and when they slept in each others rooms. The clatter of backpacks and sports equipment being thrown on the kitchen counter and the hardwood floors of course the opening and closing of the refrigerator which seems like an eternity of an all-afternoon happening. Friends off school buses dropping their own knapsacks and changing into play clothes after greeting me and retrieving a snack from my welcome kitchen counter.

Fast forward… And I’m the same mother in my mid-50s, aging yet still an energetic part-time exercise instructor, forgetting often to pick up her paycheck or rarely checking to see if the money hit her bank account as it is so minuscule. But, no matter, I never did it for the money anyway.

Many of my friends are my same age, Some are years older, many years younger. Some of them have very lucrative careers and do very well in their chosen paths. Most of my friends have children, who are some already grown adults or at least on the verge of their lives taking off in a different direction.

As parents, isn’t this exactly the goal for which we strive for our kids?Laying the groundwork, nurturing the good, realizing areas which need improvement and helping these children to become well-meaning and productive, spiritual and honorable members of society.

Sometimes, when I am sitting amongst my friends and peers, I feel the subtleties of comparison and contrast. No, if you’re reading this, please don’t read it as a complaint or with ire in my voice.

Quite the contrary. Just conversations being had.

Because we, as women cannot help ourselves. It’s hard to ignore history, and let’s face it… Women haven’t always been given a fair shake. I am no women’s libber , and I’m not heralding the MeToo movement, I’m just stating a fact.

Often, as we sit at our happy hours, we are interested in each other and discuss each others respective weeks. We listen to her trips being taken, sales goals being met, patients being saved, and promotions being coveted. We feign interest sometimes, but usually, we listen with enthusiasm to the details.

And often, I am in awe of these women.

I have had that knack of always pressing my own mind, being better than the last step I just took. The “what have you done for me lately?” mentality. Forever wondering if I’ve reached my own potential. Done enough.

After a successful career well into my mid-30’s, I made a decision to become a full time mom, administering to the needs and schedules of a Family of 8. I did and continue to do a good job at this.

But now I find myself with more free time than I like. I question myself , as I mentioned, more than ever, on it I’m now at this time going enough.

I have no regrets at all. As much as we like to say it, there is not a real way to “have it all”. There just isn’t. It’s impossible.

I could have stayed at my sales management position and refused to move from Florida to where I currently reside , and who knows…I could have had a lucrative career, enlisting daycare and/or a nanny/AuPair.

I did not.

I moved here willingly and said goodbye to my career. And that was ok by me.

I was too busy over the decades with the honored position of running the household while my husband’s career flourished.

I consider the two equally as important.

So many memories, so many emotions, good and cringeworthy to describe this path I took.

Although I do wonder every now and then, “what now?”, realizing full well it may be a little late for a women in her mid-50’s to light the world on fire with a new start-up career, I have no regrets.

I applaud women in the workforce, especially now. I love to hear about their days in their respective fields, like teaching, sales, medicine, accounting, finance and many others.

But I would also like to share, wholeheartedly and with content, enthusiasm and pride that there is so much more to motherhood than changing diapers and making school lunches.

So, so much more.

Behind every achievement, there is something or someone helping it to happen. It doesn’t just happen on its own.

It’s football season… One of the best times of the year! The newspapers (if you still read them), the radio, the TV broadcasts and social media are full of the highlights, and there’s the talking heads giving accolades to those who make it happen… The ones who score, the players who catch, definitely the player who throws and the stud who kicks and the one who runs like a lightning bolt into the goal line!

And you betcha… They are the exciting players and playmakers who put the numbers up on the board! And they do certainly deserve our applause and adulation!

However…

If they did not have the support of their line, their blockers and the tacklers and the guys who support their role, let’s face it… They would be shoved to the ground in a heartbeat.

Sadly, however, we rarely if at all here are the names of these done a number of guys are making the play. Except for maybe Michael Oher. Hell, he even got a movie out of the deal!

So, let’s hear it for the boys! I made it a point when I announced at football games to give shout outs to the players on the battle line!

Do you see the man living in the penthouse on the upper West side of Manhattan? It could be any man or woman, doesn’t matter who… What does matter is how he or she got there. Chances are it is because of being a top executive of a financial firm or the owner of a corporation or a hotel magnet or business mogul. Most likely worked very hard his or her entire life and deserves to be at that address.

But let’s face it… Every single bonus check and financial wealth and rising to the top 100% had to have employees in the background and in the back rooms making it happen. If you own a company, unless you have somebody on the streets selling your product or advertising it for you… Your doors will close faster than an elevator in the Marriott hotel.

The employees make it happen.

Women have definitely made strides in the work place over the years and I am all for that and happy for all of us, and them. Yet, there still have been those, like myself, who have chosen to put their careers on the back burner and take care of the household, which includes day-to-day tasks and the raising of children into young adults into mature individuals who can make the world a much smoother running place in one better to live in.

At the same time this is being done, there are vehicles pulling out of driveways every morning of the other partner or husband and maybe even wife going to make it happen on a financial basis.

It’s hard to make one happen without the other. It certainly can be done with both working, but speaking for myself, I chose the aforementioned path.

When the proverbial sh** hits the fan, kids are screaming, and washing machine is broken, there’s a sick kid at school that needs to come home, there’s an energetic meal that needs to be made for the family, one kid needs to be on an opposite side of the city than the other to play a sport for which hopes are high to play in college… The one making the big bucks is able to just drive on down the driveway and flourish in the career.

That leaves somebody else taking care of the aforementioned young adults into individuals into superstars.

There’s more than just the face on the screen, the name being heard or the picture on the pamphlet.

The supporting cast. Let them be seen!!

Support can be beautiful!!

I get excited if I have a planned destination. It could be on an airplane to somewhere far away and exciting or it could be a car ride to a locale right within reach but still making me feel like I’m… Somewhere else.

Checking into the hotel, especially if it is really beautiful, top-notch or quaint with lots of colors and eclectic furniture and accessories is always a thrill. I feel like a bonus version of myself, extending all of my wannabe characteristics.

The mini size shampoos in the shower and the lotion… Discovering the spa-like smell of them and feeling like I’m in a boutique. Sitting on the edge of the bed and experiencing the feel of a different mattress… looking out the window at the sights and listening for the sounds and wondering where I will run the following morning.

And of course there is the cuisine. The thought of tasting something out of the ordinary thrills me and makes me feel like a world traveler.

But when it’s all over, the trip is complete, the fun has been had, the work has been done and the people have been met, it’s time to go home.

And every single time I do, the excitement and anticipation of walking on my own tile floor, grabbing a water out of my own refrigerator, turning on the TV and being familiar with the remote control and the channel numbers, and spreading out on my own couch watching a movie and being able to get up to go to the bathroom without tripping over a suitcase…

… and the ultimate…

… taking a bubble bath in my own bathroom which I adore cannot be beat.

I’m glad I made this place my home.

I’ve been battling around in my mind for such a long time now about what the next step is. How I can be a producer? How I can be more effective? Have I done and am I doing enough? Am I able to hold meaningful and intelligent sounding conversations with people around a restaurant dinner table?

Mid50s and wondering what have I done or what am I supposed to get started now?

I have daydreams… mostly during my runs that I’ve had people hanging on my every word or taking my well-thought-out opinion and putting it to use for success.

I suppose I’m thinking this today because recently I met up with some women about my age in a conversation about what we all do. They shared with me their education and where they are in their careers and how their jobs are very demanding and lucrative.

As women often do and as I did at this particular moment, we compare ourselves. I had not much to offer in the way of their conversation, which also included my husband and son.

But I can say this much…

I’ve not only started something pretty darn big but I fed it, I’ve nurtured it, I’ve brought it up, and I’ve helped the world be a much better place by being a mother to six individuals who will take what they’ve learned and offer their talents to help pave a better future for all of us.

I truly understand how important some careers are and having a dual income family is paramount, and how important finding a solution of having a nanny or daycare help for the children is. I have witnessed firsthand how this has turned out quite well in the faces of many individuals who are now old enough to be young adults with character. It is not necessarily a wrongdoing nor a dis-service. I get it. And honestly, I probably could have done it. And then now I would be well set to pick up where I left off now that my kids don’t need me in the same manner they did. Continue on seamlessly with whatever career I had decided to pursue.

But I did not. And I try hard to remember that I have no regrets. Because I never missed a thing and my kids became my career.

I am my own worst critic, the one who constantly questions if I’m done or doing enough and the one who kicked herself in the tail for not having done what she should have.

But lately I’ve learned to think more cognitively . And make things appear more clearly to myself. And I know that what I’ve done, and that what I’m doing, is what I should be doing and will continue to do. It’s enough.

In fact, it’s more than enough.

As I look back, I think I always felt that I just missed out by THAT MUCH on the cusp of something big.

As an aerobic instructor in the mid-80s, I had several people request to videotape my class so they could take the tape with them on vacation, plug it into their VCR and work out. I complied and thought that would be a lot of fun! I’d say I had about 25 to 50 people ask. FlashForward and Internet sensations and hard -Bodies physical fitness gurus are everywhere raking in the money.

When I started doing triathlons back in the late 80s in South Florida, I remember grabbing for my water bottle and wobbling on my bike and thinking how awesome it would be to just lean forward on my bike with my head and suck up some water from a straw. FlashForward… Not only is it a straw, but it is a complex nutritional system literally making millions in the industry.

As physical fitness became so crazy popular in the late 90s into the new millennium, there were so many fitness boutiques to choose from. I remember thinking how in the hell can everybody afford doing all the things they want and having to do it all at different studios?I thought… There should be something we can just join for one membership and be able to go to all of them whenever you want. Flash forward to “Class Pass” which is an app which allows you to do exactly that.

I remember the winter and spring months running while I was in college holding my big yellow Walkman and thinking how cold my hands were every time I had to grip it so hard. If only there was some type of belt or pouch I could put it in the able to run free with my hands inside my gloves rubbing my fingers together. FlashForward to all of the pouches, Fannypack’s and armbands carrying iPhones with music all around.

I remember in early the 2000’s just how it was little bit crazy with six kids under the age of eight and how people would say “I don’t know how you do it!!” I didn’t have a nanny and I worked part time and I had activities and sports and school functions and diapers and food to be served all in the same breath. I remember people saying to me “you should write a book or have a TV show.!!” Flash forward to “Keeping up with the Kardashians”. Sure, we weren’t five grown ass girls who were beautiful and perfect and materialistic, but we still had some craziness!

More recently, I had a really good friend who opened up a Pilates reformer studio. I remember thinking how awesome this area would be if we just had one of those. Flash forward.And there it is. Beautiful, complete with all of the necessary equipment, and enticing mostly women from around the area wishing , hoping and working to better themselves physically in a safe and effective manner, including myself who joined!

I really dead and do you have some great ideas. Maybe I just didn’t work hard enough to make them happen. That needs to change. It’s never too late!

I wake up every morning and run. And then I think of the classes I am scheduled to teach that day. Sometimes one, sometimes two and very rarely , but sometimes three times per day.

And then I think about all of the boutique fitness gym I belong to and I wonder how I will fit them in with my job. With the occasional photography gig, it further presents a challenge, although a very good one!

Then I ponder… Who exactly is coming to the classes I teach? What type of individual, at what age, and with what goals in mind?

I have been teaching fitness classes for the better part of 36 years now, beginning in college and continuing on as my second job, at times very lucrative, and now pretty much the only consistent job I have.

And I am now 56 years old!

And just to pump myself up a little here… If I do say so myself I teach a pretty good and demanding class!Sure, I stayed up with the new trends and even got in the necessary continuing education credits in them… Which allows me to keep my certification. I have gotten credits in yoga, kickboxing, TRX, and most recently completing a course in Barre and yoga.

I am by no means a professional at any of these! For example, I definitely have not gotten the hundreds if not thousands of hours as a registered yoga teacher (RYT) although I have certainly obtained those hours as a participant in those classes over the years and more.

I’m at the point now where I am surrounded by a plethora of younger, newly certified and educated instructors who are trained specifically in one area.

And most of them excel and kick ass in that one area.

For example, at the hot yoga studio I attend these instructors are trained after several hours away in a specialized environment for training and then come back and practice their knowledge with a class full of willing yogis. And it is awesome!

And then, as another awesome example, there’s Pure Barre… Where all of the instructors are expertly trained and educated on just exactly which muscles to contract and tighten and move just one more inch to exhaustion and strength . Who knew something so small could have such a powerful impact in the human body?!?… Their professionalism and obvious knowledge of the technique is second to none. These classes are exceptional!

So here I am. Mountain climbers, burpees, knees up and jabbing the air into the wall.

Fitness abounds. Everywhere. All over the place. I never started teaching it to be relevant, but because I loved it. And I still do.

And I can’t imagine ever not doing it. Both teaching and taking.

Relevance? Hey-as long as you’re there, it’s all good.

i bet that you can’t hear my huffing and puffing while I voice text my blog onto my iPhone. But trust me, I am 1.9 miles into a 6 mile run and and the weather is gorgeous, and I’m feeling it!!

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how easy it would be to have all the money in the world. No, I don’t mean so much for material goods… But more for the means of peace of mind, somewhat serenity, less anxious and less worry about taking care of kids, ensuing expenses with those kids , both young and into young adulthood and also with the inevitable aging and all the fun that goes with it with ourselves!!

My catalyst for this particular blog is the recent death of one Jeffrey Epstein.

No, I certainly never did know the man nor, by the looks of it would I ever have wanted to. I don’t like people like that. Braggadocious, conceited , bombastic , and with no true moral character.

But then again, who am I to judge, right?

But yeah, I do. I did. Because what a good judge does is questions the facts right in front of her. And the fact is the guy should’ve had the world by the kahunas!!

Right?

I can’t imagine having that kind of wealth and being that miserable. And let me tell you why:

Very often on a run, I daydream about winning the lottery. And then yes, I feel the accompanying feelings of vanity and shame when I daydream for so long it gets the best of me.

But then I look back at my daydreams and I discover that all along all I was really comfortable by is the picture of everything I have right now , yet more. More in the sense that I would feel calmness and excitement about visiting my kids in different cities as they work, peacefulness in the same home I live in now yet with a little more placid feeling.

I tend to worry a lot. And question if I am doing enough, especially now that the kids are growing and don’t need me in the same way they did. I’ve battled around the idea of getting a job… A real job… Kind of like the one I had in my old life… But then reality strikes and I think “Who the hell am I kidding? I’m 56 years old now! Not exactly the new intern they are looking for!”

And then that is what leads me to the daydreams.

But I picture what I would do with my gotten gains. And it’s not big. It’s not in the extreme . It’s things like having a massage once a week, maybe even every day! LOL!

I’d give to my beloved St. Pius, the church who has been there for me.

I would stay in the same house I live in now, because not only do I love my home, but I cherish the memories it holds. I cannot imagine moving out of there. I can’t even imagine updating my home because the out-of-style faux painted bathroom conjures up memories of when it was done and the kids were all around and we were watching the artist perform her majesty.

Don’t get me wrong! I would most definitely feel comfortable taking my entire family… And I do mean my entire family… And we all know how big that is… On yearly vacations together. Because there is nothing like family!

Some people may say something like “oh you don’t know if that’s how you would be until you’re faced with all of that money!”

I guess there may be some truth to that, but I can honestly say every time I daydream about it these are the things I come up with in my brain.

Having millions of dollars and money that you could never spend in your entire life will definitely not bring you peace. I am certain a confident and secure individual would realize this and use it more as a means of security for the “just in case”. It’s not going to help your faith, it’s not going to bring you closer to God, and it most definitely will not buy you the happiness and joy of inner peace you so desperately crave.

I look at the pictures of Mr. Epstein, as they are flashing all over our TV screens right now and I feel nothing but pity for the man. I wonder what kind of turmoil somebody so wealthy could have had to make him become such a monster. It makes me sad for him.

This morning as I run in neighborhoods with beautiful homes, modest yet well-kept homes with crisp and tended to yards and cars in the driveway, swing sets in the backyards of some and dimly lit lamps in the upper corner of a room, I daydream.

And I imagine these are hard-working people, who wake up every day and have the gift of a beautiful family, and people around them who support them and love them.

And I believe most of these people have what money just can’t buy.

We are now armed with bars, dumbbells, resistance tubes, bands, balls, hand weights heavy and small, big squish balls which are waaaaay heavier than they look, steps, bouncy-looking contraptions called BOSU, long wooden machines with pulls and pulleys attached, mats both padded, long , flat and with grips, wide and narrow square-looking things called bricks, round agents of death called rings and portable ladders, cones and hurdles.

Back in the day, we had our bodies, a carpeted floor and a towel.

Today, we squat, jump, plyo, burp , er…uh…do a burpee…leap, thrust, grunt, tuck, pulse, lift, heave, step, lunge, balance, contort, hold, focus, breathe with meaningfulness, squeeze, explode, stand on our head and just all out go for it.

There is nary a grapevine in sight.

Grapevine? Pray tell.

One-two-three to the right CLAP One-two-three to the right CLAP. Repeat again to the 32 count. And then of course, go on from there…knees up 4 to the front, shimmy back, slide to the right, slide to the left, walk with purpose forward, 4 jacks back….

Aerobics.

By its very definition: Any moving activity you perform for at least 30 minutes (used to be 20, by the way, back in the very same aforementioned day…), and optimally performed at 80% of your Maximum Heart Rate, which can be calculated by using 220 minus your age.

But enough of that.

My point is….

Exercise has changed, not so much in either a good or a bad way, per se, but just …changed.

It used to be the question we asked each other was “which club did you go to this past weekend?” Or “Where do you all usually have lunch?”, etc…

Now, the curiosity, tinged with a comparative and competitive drive is the question “Where do you work out?”

And it’s a good question.

I’ve been working out since as long as I can remember…I have long considered it my social life. It’s where I’ve met my best friends through life, where I met what I thought at the time was the “love of my life” (lol), it’s where I’ve networked for my career and it’s always been the end result of my day, both as a young adult and today. It has always been important to me.

I started out at 18, teaching classes to the baseball team at college atop a table in the cafeteria. I then graduated to fitness gyms on summer breaks. When I graduated college, I got a “real job”, but then always kept my “second job” teaching Animal Aerobics at three area health clubs. I had a huge following. Was the best part of my day after work, going to the gym, stepping up on the mini stage, turning on the cassette player and screaming my lungs out with cues to the beat and the chorus. No microphones back then.

It came without buttons, it came without bows. Just all of us, in spandex and Reeboks, a big room and a lot of sweat.

My body responded. I felt strong, lean and light as a feather as I pumped my feet and cheered, clapped and walloped.

Today we are so much more serious!!!!! Working too hard to smile, thinking of the huge weights we are about to curl, or the bar setting on our shoulders, ready to squat to the ground through our hips. We compare with others our workouts of the day, and think one of two things: “Sounds wimpy” or “WOW. Maybe I should try that, but it sounds pretty hard core”.

So much to choose. Hard to pick the passion, because for anything to be effective, it needs to be performed consistently. And let’s not even talk price. That could send you to the cleaners if you do them all.

But it’s all good. A body in motion tends to stay in motion.

But to be honest, I find it depressing that nary a grapevine in sight anymore.

” I only want to get married in a church with a beautiful background. Like stained glass windows, or ornate and fancy statues, with gold and beautiful lighting. I won’t get married in a plain church. I want my pictures to stand out.”

I heard a young lady say that. And I just smiled unto myself.

I , myself, was married at St. David’s Catholic Church in Fort Lauderdale, FL. It was one of the newer churches built, and not very…fancy. It had a plain background, with stones on the altar. Carpeting. Nary a marble swirl in sight.

Still…I was married there. So, it was beautiful to me.

Fast forward many years later, including many married years, and six kids later, and my parish is now St. Pius X Catholic Church in Edgewood, KY. It too, has a less-than-spectacular background; brick, in fact, with carpeting as well. It also has newly-added stained glass windows (backlit) on the sides of the outer aisles. It has a beautiful baptismal font in the foyer, and the tabernacle is absolutely stunning. And then there’s Christ. Right there front and center, on the cross, right where he belongs.

St. Pius X has been the place for me for many different, yet equally important reasons. I have celebrated Mass with many priests over my years as a parishioner here, and have loved them all as a true Catholic should, but, as my “only human” self, I have had my favorites. I have been a parent of baptized babies, and have been a proud and blessed godparent standing at the font for others. I have witnessed the sacraments of all of my kids through First Reconciliation, First Holy Communion, and have had all six confirmed at my awesome parish. I have smiled at weddings, cried at funerals and have sung in the choir. I am presently serving the ministry of being a lector at mass and I enjoy it immensely. Nothing gives me more pleasure than pre-reading the words I will be conveying to an entire congregation. The powerful Word of the Lord.

I’ve also, quite sinfully, I may add, have had my mind wander during Mass. All it takes is one glance down at the carpet to start the mind working on just how many different shapes the pattern can take: squares, bigger squares, made into rectangles and quadrangles if you look hard enough. Yellow, yellow, green, green, red. Yellow, yellow, green, green, red….oh wait….”Thanks be to God”. Whoops.

All this. All this….in a church with a brick backdrop. Non-ornate. Not 11×20 worthy. No color to saturate in a photo. Just a church with carpet , and a brick backdrop. Nothing fancy in comparison to , say, the Cathedral downtown. The Cathedral…now that would look so pretty hanging over the mantle, with the bride and groom in the foreground of the grandiose. Seriously, who doesn’t want a photo like that in a wedding album?

But to me, I feel like my church is my home. It’s where I live. It’s where I’ve heard things, and the place which reminded me to be the best me I can. I’ve cried, laughed, sung and knelt here.

Hopefully not soon, but I plan on being remembered here. After a long life, well-lived, I want that brick behind me, and the carpet under me, while the people I’ve loved and liked remember me. Jesus Christ…hanging there, right over me.

Yeah, I guess that’s my church.

We used to jump, run, spin, move forward and backward, round and round, up and down and finally end up on the carpet with a towel.

We’ve come a long, sweaty way , baby.

We used to go to a bar afterward, for a Diet Coke and maybe even a beer. Anything we did with turbo was under the hoods of our cars. We looked for lizards (well, I did, anyways, living in Florida at the time), and we fed the pigeons in the park. If something was ripped, we took it to someone who knew how to sew and our definition of insanity was the person we knew who didn’t like to work out.

Now?

We head to the Barre to sculpt our legs and tone our upper bodies. We NEVER drink soda or suds after a workout unless it has a listing of some major protein as its main ingredient. Some of us drive electric cars and the turbo is in our kick in the gym meaning business. We get stretched out in all the right places with poses in yoga, we now rip our bodies into shape with resistance, intervals of explosive moves, powerful plyometrics up to the ceiling, going on forever with endurance and try to keep some semblance of a balanced diet, and we’ve all gone insane with our own body weight as powerfully as possible. Thanks, Shaun T. Your body frikkin’ rocks. I want the same one.

When I started teaching “Animal Aerobics” back in the mid-80’s, we had a floor , a mirror, sometimes a stage, never a microphone and a surplus of spandex, colorful Reeboks, legwarmers, and thongs up there. And curly hair. And the music was loud, all mixed by ourselves on our turntables and cassette tapes. Every song had a routine….certain moves to the chorus, to be broken up in between and then built up to a crescendo to the climax of the high-kicking routine.

Ahhhhh,…yes….those were the days. I thought they’d never end.

I was 20-something and living my best life. It was my part-time job, which afforded me the luxuries I wouldn’t let myself have with my “real job”, like more spandex, more leotards, more 12-inch long-playing records hogging up my apartment in stacks, and weekend visits to dance clubs.

All at $13/class pay rate. And I taught 16 classes per week. I lived for it, teaching at 4 different places and meeting my soul sisters and a couple brothers.

My second job was the best.

I continued to do it for years to come, eventually making my way up to $34/class pay rate teaching in more hoity-toity places which could afford it.

My repertoire changed slightly, always within my certification limits with AFAA (Aerobic Fitness Association of America), later with NASM (National Academy of Sports Medicine), including the aforementioned “Animal Aerobics” to “Step Reebok” “Slide Reebok”, “Circuit Training”, “Lift and Strength”, “Kickboxing” and other names which were different, but basically used the same approach:

-Hard core cardio of at least 40 minutes sustained aerobic activity

-Light to moderate weight training with hand weights and bars

-Resistance training with tubes and bands

-Intense core work on the mat

-Cool down, including stretch and relaxation

There. That’s it. That’s been the crust of my over 37 years of being a fitness instructor.

Today there is such a plethora of work out facilities, names for work outs, machines to use, badass dirty-bricked warehouses to utilize to feel that same badass-ness, nice mirrored spaces where you can wear all black and watch your form in the mirror, admiring the results, hot cork floors which allow your sprawling bodies to elongate, breathe, work and relax all the same time, orange lights to let you know “baby…you’ve hit the sweet spot! Yay YOUUUUUUU”, and rooms full of bikes and monitors to race each other and kick the other team’s ass.

So. Much. To. Choose. From.

So, how do you decide?

The fitness world has become the new lunchroom the first year of high school if you’re the new kid who just moved to town. They all have their places, like “Mean Girls”…their own territory.

Talk to somebody from one of those previously mentioned “BadAss Gyms” and they look their noses down on the “pretty place” where you point your toes and rise high on the balls of your feet while tucking like it’s nothing. Meanwhile, those on the ball of their feet sneer when thinking of doing a disgusting burpee on an equally foul floor of a warehouse when it’s all momentum anyway. Spinners? They will tell you it is the most bust-ass cardio workout every and they come out every single time drenched from t-shirt to padded-butt shorts, and there’s nothing like it for them. Meanwhile, over at the yoga studio, virtues of a longer, leaner body have never been extolled more than by those who have…”practiced” (please do not call it working out….) the art of yoga going on 5-7 years now. They’ll never give it up.

Etc, etc, etc…

The long and short of it is this:

A body in motion is a body in motion. Clothing may change and go out of style, music on the radio may have a different beat than last year, protein may beat the hell out of carbohydrates on the latest diet, and trips to certain locales may be the coveted “spot of the month”.

But one thing that never changes is this:

Working out is working out. Find what you like, and make it the main ingredient on your plate. For a side dish, try one of the other types. Mix it up. Come back always to what works for you, but add a new ingredient every now and then. Whether it’s in the gym or running on a trail…you’ll find something.

All of these fitness regimes have one magical thing in common: they have all managed to stay in business, whether it’s a “box gym” offering the plethora, or a specialized studio or warehouse fitness facility, they’ve all done a damn good job finding there niche audience. Fiscally not feasible to join them all for most, find your favorite after trying them all out and make the decision best for you.

Be forever fit.

Now please excuse me. I ran this morning, taught a Circuit Combo class and am now heading to hot yoga.

Yours in fitness,

Jen