Hitting the Y

Things seen at the Y today:
-2 woman walking the track in full everyday clothes (think jean, turtleneck sweater, lots of jewelry), winter big a** boots, and very large purses flung over their shoulders (which somehow miraculously manage to fall off said shoulders when I try to pass them and then hang dangerously into the path I am walking, errrgh). And those stinkers managed to almost outwalk me!
-Seeing a woman working out on a treadmill, dripping sweat, white t-shirt and then I noticed the pants. The heavy fleece, skiing snowman pajama bottoms. I kid you not. They were on sale today for $9 at Shopko, (right next to the rack with the workout pants which were also on sale for $9) and I didn't even want the fleece pants for pjs because they'd be too hot to sleep in. I never once considered them for working out in. All I can say is, interesting choice.
-Every single piece of equipment had someone working out on it. I have never, NEVER seen it this busy.

Ahhh, my faith is restored. My Y is getting back to it's normal, somewhat-freaky self. Welcome Back!!

Jumping in the Deep End

The kids have been taken swimming lessons at the Y. Yep, the infamous Y, but trust me, it's more normal at night when they have their lessons.
S is doing really well. Swimming is fun for him and although he's rusty, some of his form is returning. It will be a while before he gets back to what he was doing over a year ago, but he's enjoying the lessons. Especially jumping off the diving board.
C, well, she's a bit of another story.
It started like this:
C: I don't wan to go to swimming lessons in the big pool. The water is way over my head. (Note:She can stand on the shallow end but it goes from there to over 12 ft deep on the other end.)
Me: You can do it! The lifeguard will be right there and you'll have a board or floaties to hang onto. She won't let anything happen to you, I know you can do this! Just try it, I think you'll like it and have fun. Trust the lifeguard, she knows what she's doing and she's there to protect you.
C: I don't think so. I'm scared.
Me: (Repeat previous statement about 10 more times, each time with a slightly different take but all very supportive).
Eventually, C says: OK, guess I'll try it (said very, very reluctantly)
See, what you need to know is that C doesn't like to put her face in the water. She'll do it but then wants a towel to wipe off her face. Not the most practical thing when you're in the swimming pool on the deeep end.
C went to swimming, shyly walked behind the instructor to the pool and presto, bango, she's off and having fun.
She does everything the lifeguard tells her, including kicking both on her tummy and back holding the board going from one end of the pool to the other. She floats, bobs, and has a great time.
Until...
Until the diving board.
She's all brave and laughing with her swim classmates.
Until it's her turn. That's when the 180 degree change comes, faster than a speeding bullet. One minute laughing, the next, utter sheer terror.
The girl goes to the end of the board and refuses to jump off into the arms of the lifeguard waiting for her with another noodle. Her little knees shake, she's sobbing and she won't let go of the railings to walk to the end. She has a serious death grip on the railing.  Mind you, there was also a lifeguard on the board with her holding her hand or at least trying to hold her. C just wouldn't let go of the rail. Sorta like when you try and put a cat in a carrier and they spread out their legs and refuse to go in. Just consider C the cat. She tried numerous times to go on the board and jump off. She'd be smiling when she got on the board but as soon as she got to where she had to let go, she just couldn't do it.
I felt so bad for her, really heart-breakingly bad. I was almost in tears myself watching from the bleachers. I could tell she was terrified and there is nothing like watching your baby girl freak out and not being able to do anything to help.
After patiently working with her many times, the lifeguards told her she could try again the next week. They told her how brave she was going up on the board. They pointed out that she jumps off the side of the pool by herself (and the noodle) and this was in the same amount of water. C just looked at them and said "I know I can jump off the side. But on the diving board, it's just too much. The walking off the board and dropping is really scary. It's just too hard to step out and trust that it'll be ok." 
I towelled her off and dried her tears. Assured her that it's okay. Gave her lots of hugs and support.
She was smiling when we went to shower. But she did give the diving board the evil eye when we walked by on the way out.
Wonder how next week will go??

Power (Con)Fusion

I have had a big summer. And, I mean big as in the 'we traveled a butt-load and I took it as my personal duty to try as many new yummy calorie laden foods as possible' kind of way. I mean, someone has to do it, right?!
Unfortunately, I believed my own propaganda. And the scale shows it.
My running has stopped as well. Another story for another day.
So, now that school is back in session, I decided it was time to get back on track. YMCA, here I come.
At least, that's what I said on Weds. But, then Weds was early release so I didn't have much time to go.
"I'll go tomorrow"
Then, on Thursday, I did all my things at home, it was hot, I was tired and thought "I'll go tomorrow".
As I'm on Facebook Friday morning, my friend (whose name begins with TR and rhymes with fish) emails and asks if I want to go to a class at the Y at noon.
'Darned Facebook' I grumbled but I decided there's no time like the present so I told her I would mmet here there.
I didn't know that the class was called Power Fusion and frankly, that should have been my first clue.
Holy Crap!
I was sweating, no, I was drenched with sweat within, no lie, the first 3 minutes. And that was the easy warmup portion!
We were strategically positioned in the back row. Which is a great place when you don't know the moves, are the plumpest one in class and don't want anyone to see what you're doing. Which was a great plan until the infamous jumping jacks began. First, I don't jump. Second, my arms were already tired and getting them up over my head in a repeatedly high energy fashion just wasn't happening. After the next few seconds, I glance over at my friend and she has a similar pained expression on her face. Ahhh, comrades in arms (or jumping jacks in this case). It's always nice to know that you have someone to commiserate with.
"Jumping Jacks, now turn a 1/4 turn!" shouted the drill instructor. With a big ol' smile on her perky little face.
"And another 1/4 turn!!" she commanded just oh so jolly. Uggh.
Cause now, of course, we are turned the opposite way around so we're in the front. My friend and I.
I continue to bounce in my sorta jumping jack stance. Grimacing and swearing that if we have to turn around again, I'm hightailing it to the opposite side of the room. But then, I glance over at my friend.
As soon as we turned so that we were the front people, she starts doing jumping jacks like she's in perfect condition! I mean, you could have taped it and posted it on You Tube as 'how to do the perfect jumping jack'. (really, I was chuckling inside just that those chuckles couldn't make it past my sweaty exterior).
About the time I was going to point this out to her, we turned another 1/4 turn, then another and we were back in the back row again. Thank heaven.
I did pretty much every modification you could in the class.
Eventually, I finished and it actually felt pretty good after we completed the classs.
Until tonite.
Owwwwwwwie!

Ears Lookin' at You

It's been a while since I visited my beloved YMCA. So, today was the day.
After many weeks of minimal exercise (due to my lovely plantar fascitis, yeee-ouch!) I decided today was it. I was going to the Y and exercising. Hubster was bringing the kids after he was finished mowing lawn, so here was my chance.
I got there, changed my clothes and headed out to work out. Now, I wasn't foolish enough to try and rock the treadmill with my awesome (or, well, really, totally non-existent) running talent. So, I stepped on the stair stepper. Plugged in my headphones and pushed the tv button. I started moving (& groovin', at least in my mind) on the machine but much to my dismay, my tv wasn't working. Well frankly, the tv is about the only thing that makes that instrument of torture, I mean, machine, bearable. So I wasn't about to continue on without something to watch so off I stepped.
Unfortunately, I forgot one little thing. I was still plugged in to the console. Let me just say that it is not comfortable having the earplugs ricochet out of your ears as you walk away. And, surprisingly, they can whip around pretty darn fast after pinging out of the ear canal.  Sorta like a mini, white bungee cord.
I nonchalantly backed up, reached over and unplugged. I tried to pass it off like this was all in my master plan but I don't think my exercise neighbors were buying it. Their snickering was the first tipoff. The weak ass barely contained laughter was the second.
Once again, I am the new Y story.
Lovely.

Run, Anne, Run

OK, so yesterday was Day 2, Week 4. My workout went something like this:
Get the kids up, dressed, breakfast eaten, bathroom break taken and ready to go to the gym.
Realize I haven't eaten breakfast and make something for myself. Eat my oatmeal, get dressed for the gym, get Maggie in the kennel. Walk out the door and think "Hmm, did I bring along all my clothes to change into?" and realize I have everything but clean underwear. Can't forget those 'cause there's nothing yuckier than sweat drenched undies after a nice clean shower.
OK, have everything including kids so off we go to the gym.
Referee a few disagreements by the time we get to the gym.
Give strict instructions to the children about appropriate behavior in the youth room and remind them I can see everything they do from my treadmill and issue the 'you better not make me come in there' speech.
We go inside, put things into the locker, kids go in the youth room. I am relieved because there's another child in there and they're playing nicely together.
Get my ipod set and the treadmill turned on. Turn on the tv, find Oprah.
Start with a 5 minute warmup, just walking. No problem.
Next, a 3 minute run. The ipod instructs me not to go too fast as this is just the first run of the session. No problem there, I take that ipod seriously and don't stress myself out. Not too bad, I can handle this running. Easy peasy, lemon squeezie.< Famous last words.>
Walk 90 seconds. Cakewalk.
Run for 5 minutes. Not too fast, I'm instructed. I start out strong, feeling confident. This is so great! I can do this! I should really think about skipping to Week 5, I'm feeling so great. I'm so good, I could skip to Week 6!
About 1 minute into the run, I notice it's really hot in the gym. Sweat starts pouring. In places that are not so nice; like the 'under the boob' sweat, 'above the crack' sweat and the 'run down in my eye and sting' sweat. Darn, and it's only 2 minutes into the run. I think this ipod is broken. No? Well, crap.
Finally, I make it the 5 minutes and I very, very promptly slow down for my next walk. I'm just about recovered and that darned ipod tells me it's time to run again, what??? I notice the woman on the treadmill next to me looking at me rather strangely. "Damn ipod told me to speed up" I tell her. She just smiles tentatively and keeps walking. (At which point, I realize I have now become someone else's YMCA story).
I speed up the treadmill and the music speeds up too. Now, it's getting hard to read the closed captioning on Oprah and run and wipe the extraneous sweat balls that are bouncing around in unusual spots on my body. I glance at the kids. Thank goodness they are behaving. C waves and I grunt and move my hand in her general direction cause man, this running is tough. Contemplate going back to Week 3 workout.
Finally, I make it to the end of my session (there might have been more walking/running segments but I forget now. Selective memory at it's finest!). I gingerly step off the treadmill, wipe it down, and go to tell the kids I'm off to the shower.
Workout completed, legs tired, body sweaty, throat very thirsty.
And, I get to do this all over again one more time.
Oh boy.

Swimsuit Definitely Not Optional

Are you tired of my Y stories yet? Cause I've got another. And it's a doozie. Don't continue reading if you're eating or have a weak stomach. Ready? OK, you've been warned.
I met my friend Renee at the Y and we treaded water in the pool. For 45 minutes. It's tiring.
But, afterwards, we decided a dip in the hot tub was necessary to warm up. Cause it's frickin' freezin' when you get out of that lap pool.
Off we go, la te dah, to the whirlpool. Just two ladies, chatting and soaking in the lovely warmth.
Now, this is NOT a clothing optional hot tub. Swimsuits required. BIG sign on the door. Hard to miss  really.
We had been in there only a few minutes when this younger woman walked in. I looked up and, really, it's not that I was looking, but more like, how can you not look?. She had on a sports bra, okay, not so bad. But then, my eyes traveled lower. And holy moly. She had on a thong, g-string? I'm not sure but it had some teeny tiny ruffles on the back (and they were definitely not swimsuit material). And, then, then, eeeeuuuuuu, you see the 'rest' of it. Or shall I say, the lack of the rest? Except for the ruffles, it was see through. As in, there she was, in all her glory. As in, you saw that the carpet defnitely matched the drapes, if you get my drift. Seriously, I couldn't decide whether I should just close my eyes or burn that image out of my mind with extra chlorine!! I looked at my friend and I'm sure that her face and mine were pretty much matching at that point. I know our eyes were the same size!
The young lady proceeds to walk down into the hot tub and then up to a spot next to a hot tub jet. Renee quickly suggested that perhaps it was time to leave and we hightailed it out of there. But, but, that wasn't the end. Not only did the gal go next to jet, it was one that was at the see through level and she was carefully positioning herself next to it. I'm going with the theory that something down there just needed a might strong cleaning out, and if it's anything else, well, I just refuse to think about it.
I am shuddering just reliving this enough to write it down. EEEEEUUUUUUUUUUUU.
Now I must mention, that I have had no more unusual experiences since this. I've been there at least 4 times since and it's been rather pleasant.
And I post only for your reading pleasure.
And the fact, that I'm pretty sure you're happy that this didn't happen to you.

Hairy Situation

Once again, I was at the Y. This time, I made it through my workout unscathed, unaccosted yet still sweaty.
I'm back in the locker room, blow drying my hair when I hear someone behind me say "I sure wish I had your hair. It's so thick and full. You're really lucky."  I turn around and there, sitting on the bench, is this little old lady. Of course, I had to look at her hair.  Her white/grey hair. Her whole 10 hairs on her head. Truely, that is about the least amount of hair I've ever seen on anyone. I gave a little gasp and unfortunately, my mouth spoke to her before my brain could stop it.  "Oh honey," I replied, "you just need a little volumizer!"
Open mouth, insert foot.

Y Me??

We joined the YMCA. And, I've actually been going. And working out. And sweating. And having sore, sore legs that night and the next day requiring Ibuprofen. It better be worth it.
Anyway, it's always an experience at the Y. I seem to be a magnet for the weirdos, I mean, eccentrics, I mean mentally challenged, no, I really mean weirdos that frequent the place. Only, not the young, good looking ones. Oh no, I get the old and somewhat depraved ones.
Yesterday, I went to the Y. La tee da, in I go. And doing pretty good as no one talked to me in the locker room (trust me, that's a plus). I get on my elliptical machine and push, push, push myself. I was looking fierce on that machine.
As I'm in full sweat mode, watching the timer, tick, tick, tick SLOWLY down (I swear it goes slower when there's only 10 minutes left), the man in the next row in front of me stops and gets off his treadmill. Now, I wouldn't have normally noticed this, because besides watching the timer, I was seriously watching my Oprah. And no one better interrupt me and my Oprah.
Alas, it was not to be. The weirdo man stops right in front of me and looks directly up into my face (now picture this, as it requires a bit of contortion on his part because each machine has its own tv screen and I'm focused on my Oprah). And then he proceeds to say, with a big ass cheesy grin on his face "Gooooood morning! And have a GRRReat day!" I almost fell off the machine. And I think I managed to say 'heh' but it might possibly have come out as a grunt. (Thank goodness what I was thinking didn't come out. That would have wiped the grin right off his face!) I'm not entirely sure what sound I made because I was trying to hang onto the machine, watch the darned timer and I was missing Oprah. And Weirdo Man wouldn't go away until I acknowledged him. Oh, and did I mention I was the only female he graced with his friendly/disturbing presence?
Well, he moved on. I trudged on and finally I finished. Off to the showers I go.
I get into the shower, was just about to take off my towel and thwap! I get hit upside the side of my head (partly on my face) with something. "What the heckl?" I look up and see that the old woman in the stall next to me had flung her swimsuit over the top of the stall and smacked me upside the head with it. Not the worst part though. The part of her suit that I got hit with? Well, it was the soaking wet crotch! EEEEEEUUUUUUUU!
I never shampooed so thoroughly.