They Used to Call me "Power", but Now They Just Call Me "Huff"

(Alternate title: Three Years is Too Long Between BodyAttack Classes)

We now have Internet!

Actually, we've had it for about a week, but NOW it's actually hooked up to our computer, which, apparently, is kind of the point.

Rogers and Bell reps have spent waaaay too much time at my house, due to the every-square-inch-drywalled-ness of it, and, despite having people living here (in squalor, I might add -- more on that later) for the last 10 years, had a heck of a time plugging me into the information age.

But first: Welcome back to Ottawa, me!

First order of business, of course, was to go back to GoodLife and demand to be paid for my shenanigans again. There's a process that I have to follow, involving submitting another video, with $100 (yay! I knew I didn't throw out all that extra Mo Money for a reason!)... but I need to decide between Jam (dance, dance, dance! Get down with your funky self, you white girl, you!) and Attack (evil aerobics nightmare-type workout, in which I used to do jump lunges and high kicks with ease, smiling, and barely sweating), since I don't have the mental capacity to do both right now (as evidenced by rambling blog posts, for example).

So far, I've gone to one Attack class. Three years, two babies, and ... well, that's all that needs to be said about that. Let's just say there was more effort expended than I had in reserve. Despite being very sleep-deprived since the progeny arrived, I can't help but wonder how on earth I could sleep at night doing that to innocent class participants for fun and profit. In short, I LOVED IT. I still need to attend a Jam class to make my final decision, but woo! What a rush!

But of course, the masses can sway me with a vote.

Um, go ahead, vote.

I'll be sitting here on this nice ice pack.

...And I can't get up!

Well, I'm ending week 27 (heeeey, third trimester!) and, to (probably) misquote Kaz Cooke, people have stopped coming up to me to say, "Pardon me, but aren't you Audrey Hepburn?" Also, I am feeling, to (probably) misquote Douglas Adams, "less sylph-like than, to pick a name at random, the Princess of Wales."*

I've been feeling more and more ungainly lately (and I have that nasty diastasis recti thing again, which means that I can't sit up/forward without the help of a wall, a handle, a helping hand, or, as I keep lobbying for, a winch). The mirrors in my step class, though I feel somewhat graceful still, show that I am not, in fact, graceful. At all. Think lumbering, sweaty hippo in workout clothes, attempting complicated choreography.

Hey, time for a crafty segue!

Speaking of grace and not being able to get up (nice, eh?), I've learned that, at the start of the class when you give your introduction (Hi, I'm Karen/this is a 60-minute class involving step and strength intervals/please drink water throughout/if you need to leave early, give me a wave/I won't be joining you for the abdominal portion of the workout/etc) you should NOT say, "If I fall down, just keep going."

I learned this about 3 years ago, while teaching at the GoodLife on Queen Street. The studio there is odd; it's short, but very wide, and for a while, was the only GL without a stage for intructors, which is a problem if your instructor is only three apples tall. It helps if you can SEE what she's trying to show you, I've heard. Anyhoo. They finally put in a stage. It wasn't very deep. Altogether now: HOW DEEP WASN'T IT? Well, in a lunge position, I had about 2 inches to spare on either side. Also, the first time I taught on it, it wasn't securely fastened to the floor or back wall.

"If I fall down, just keep going." Ha ha! What an odd, amusing thing for an instructor to say, before embarking on another BodyAttack class, involving lots of high-impact moves, most notably the afore-mentioned lunges...done plyometrically.

Well, we all know where this is going.

The first three tracks of the class went well, with only a few wobbles at the front and back of the stage. It was during the fourth -- the plyometric track -- that I fell down. Well, half of me fell down. My back leg, in its enthusiasm to shoot back into a gorgeous, visually-effective and gluteal-toning low plyometric lunge, shot back about an inch too far. I missed the back of the stage with the ball of my foot, and the edge scraped most of the skin off my shin as I tipped over backwards...not gracefully...and got stuck.

Good thing I had made that announcement, though! Not one participant paused in their workouts! Nobody rushed the stage to see if their beloved, mangled, bleeding instructor was ok. They were in the zone! They were following directions! They were sweaty!

Somehow, I managed to extricate myself without doing too much more damage (and without a winch), and finished the class a bit gimpy, limpy, and bruised (with a Blood, Sweat and Tears song stuck in my head; ironic because that's what was soaking into my sock).

So, lessons learned:

1. Know when to quit and/or modify exercises (eg. this hippo marches instead of cross-country skis) (aerobics lingo) (also, the oh-so-attractive waddlerun will soon be replaced with a less-horrifying quick waddle);
2. Sometimes a tie-dye shirt just isn't slimming (nothing to do with this post, but true nonetheless);
3. There's nothing wrong with asking for help when you're jammed, bleeding and helpless, behind an aerobics stage (also, if you can't reach the spare toilet paper which for some reason, Chris keeps up on a 7-foot-tall shelf); and
4. When you think you're being funny, you're probably just asking for the universe to bite you in the butt (ongoing lesson, not actually learned yet - as Chris can attest).

* The Douglas Adams line comes from a very amusing bit involving why he loves scuba diving. Being 6'5" (and less sylph-like, etc.), it's the only experience that makes him feel graceful. Also, he usually throws up afterwards, which is a great way of working up an appetite. The man was a genius.

Once a Halloweenie, always a Halloweenie

Who likes Halloween more than I do?

Nobody, that's who!

This year's costume was a bit of a logistical challenge, for obvious reasons. At right, you'll find my full-day-at-work-and-then-a-party-that-night costume. Not offensive, not ill-fitting...

However, there was no way that I couldn't share my Parade of Ill-Advised Halloween Costumes with you.

Hope you appreciate the selection of costumes that I considered... sensitive readers, please be warned that you may not like what you see. I apologize in advance for offending anyone's sensibilities.

Sport Barbie: briefly considered.

Hmmm... it's fine from the back...

Whoa! Maybe a little more time should be spent on your abs, sister.

How about a Renegades Cheerleader? It fit last year....

Nope, still seems wrong, somehow. Go team?

The Olivia Newton John Let's Get Physical costume is a flashback to the early 80s, and also my first year at CNA (2002?), when I was the only one in costume, of 85 people! This look just wasn't working this year... but wow, lycra sure can stretch!

I admit that there was one more. For a work luncheon on Wednesday, I decided to just go with it, and hope that others' senses of humour would keep me from being lynched.

Possible captions include The Smoking Nun and Bad Habits. Now, usually, I publicly humiliate for a whole lot less... ok, free... (see above), but I won $50 for Best Costume!

I had really tried to do proper recon ahead of time to make sure that there were no "secret nuns" working at the base, and I was assured there were not. Unfortunately, the first person I saw was the padre.
Whoops.

We handed out candy to 14 kids last night. Ordinarily, I'd be disappointed by such a low turnout, but then, I take a moment to reflect on how much candy we have left... Aaaah.

Hope everyone else had a wonderful Halloween!