The Emergency At-Home Workout [No equipment necessary]

Every family has their seasonal traditions and today we are commemorating a big one at our house. It's annual Pink Eye Day. We celebrate this special day every year come winter - sometimes more than once! While this day doesn't usually involve festive decorations or special foods, it does involve missing school (and, for me, the gym, the store, and all adult company). Pink is the color of the day and each child is gifted with his own bottle of Purel, a box of Kleenexes and the admonition to touch nothing, including themselves.

The first thing we always do on this great day (and every 4 hours afterward) is the Ceremony of the Eye Drops. Some parents think this ceremony is not very fun as it often involves kicking, screaming, scratching and crying. The children often behave no better. However, since this ceremony is required to celebrate Pink Eye Day, not to mention the Great Day of Returning To School, I have developed a patented eye drop administration technique. First you place the child on their back on a padded floor. Next you place both legs over their body, pinning their arms to their sides. You have to really use those quad muscles here. Just ignore any protestations from the child - remember it was them and their germy fingers that got you into this mess in the first place. Use one hand to hold their head and hold the other at the ready with the eye drops. Now here's the trick: hold a piece of candy between your teeth and yell "Look! A treat!!" As soon as they open their eyes to see that Tootsie Roll dangling above them, strike with the eye drops. Then - don't be a jerk - give them the treat.

Despite the fact that the Eye Drop Ceremony usually gets me all sweaty, I was still bummed to have to miss my daily sweat fest at the gym. Today was supposed to be boot camp and I was greatly looking forward to doing my best to reinact those Gatorade commericals with the colored sweat (I ate beets last night, it was a possibility!) but thanks to my disease-carrying progeny I am stuck at home. So instead since today was "metabolic circuit" day of the Rachel Cosgrove Experiment (which I have to say, one week in, is going great!) I assigned the Gym Buddies some homework and we each did these circuits at home. The great thing about these is that they don't require any equipment except a clock!

Circuit 1: Perform each movement for 45 seconds followed by a 10 second rest. Repeat circuit twice.

Walking lunges

Single leg squat thrusts (the bottom half of a burpee but with only 1 leg)

Pushups

Box jumps (use your stairs and jump up as many as you can, landing with two feet. Also, don't fall!)

Circuit 2: Perform each movement for 45 seconds followed by a 10 second rest. Repeat circuit twice.

Lateral ski jump (also known as skaters)

Explosive step up (use your stairs)

Prone Cross Toe Touch (do plank, then bring your right leg underneath and lift your left hand to touch your right toe. Repeat on other side)

Jump squats

Sixteen intense minutes and then you're done! Sounds great in theory. In execution it looked a bit different but it sure beat running in place on my pretend treadmill for 30 minutes. I threw on some clothes (it's amazing how little care I put into wardrobe selection when I know no one is going to see me!), set up a fort to keep the wee ones occupied and went to work!

At first the kiddos (a.k.a. The Lepers) stayed holed up in their den with a bag of contraband Teddy Grahams and watched mommy go all Flashdance on the 6-square feet of carpet their fort did not take up.

But then they saw how much fun I was having as evidenced by the sweat drops splattering their tent off my elbows and my heavy breathing and decided to further investigate. (Note protective eyewear. Their idea, not mine. I figure if you're in our house during the Pink Eye Festival, you're just doomed. Admit it, your eyes are suddenly feeling itchy.)

The four-year-old decided he wanted to be the official photographer of our group exercise event so he chronicled the fun. Here's me doing jump squats (the tongue is part of having good form, trust me.)

Momentary distraction to take a picture of an owie incurred when Mommy stepped on his foot while doing skaters. Don't worry, he'll live.

While the four-year-old could basically follow along, the two-year-old's favorite activity was crawling through my legs when I did the plank. It's like reverse birthing. I'm sure we just saved money on therapy there.

We ended with the baby's impersonation of me doing the Carioca. (Notice the broom? The four-year-old apparently thought that random dancing around the room meant limbo time.) Personally, I dig his choice of workout wear. Tomorrow I'm totally going to the gym in my pajama shirt, no pants, one sock and ski goggles.

What do you do when your planned workout gets foiled? Do you have a favorite at-home workout? Or do you call it a rest day? Anyone had pinkeye as an adult? I have (during the Pink Eye Fest last year) and trust me it's way worse than you remember. Took me two solid weeks to get over that. This year I'm wearing surgical gloves.

What Running (And Failing At) A Race Taught Me

Pre-race, post-potty - the high point of my day.

The End: Shaking, incoherent, sobbing, vomiting and laying under all my blankets still in my sweat-soaked racing clothes: This was how my kids found mommy yesterday.

The Beginning: "Sure, give me some of your pills!" Famous. Last. Words.

That pretty much sums it up. But if you want all the gory details of my Worst Race Ever (swiftly followed by Very Important Life Lesson), read on:

The day dawned bright and beautiful and cold. Gym Buddies Allison, Megan and I met up all kitted out in our glittery skirts and painted hair. The drive in was easy, we quickly found a parking spot, we were plenty early for several potty breaks and I even got to meet Reader Jen at the starting line (which got awkward when Allison asked her if she wanted me to sign her bra. Jen replied, "Do people really ask you that?!" And I was like, "Um, NO. Just Allison!" I'm sorry Jen!). But even with everything going so swimmingly, I was still really anxious. Have to do my best, remember?

Allison and I after getting all prettied up.

It was my last long training run that did me in. My "fun" goal for the race was 1:30 for the ten miles - an easy 9 minute pace*. I knew I could do that. But then I had an awesome run outside. And then an even better one inside. I'd consistently paced at 8:40/mile. I didn't want to tell anyone for fear of jinxing myself but if I could shave that down to 8:30/mile that would be a personal record (PR) for me for this distance. Sure I'd have to run a hard race but I could do it! If I just had a little edge... Just, you know, something to give me a tiny push... Something like... a pill?

Seduced by the allure of a PR, I convinced one of the Gym Buddies who is into that sort of thing to give me a couple of caffeine pills. It's just caffeine, I reasoned. Sure I'm caffeine sensitive but it wasn't that much and my Gym Buddy uses them all the time and has had great results with them. I mean it's not like it was crack, right?

Might as well have been crack. Actually, crack would have been preferable.

I knew something was wrong about 20 minutes after I swallowed them. A strange fog came over my mind, my heart started pounding and I began to shake uncontrollably. Nausea rolled over me in waves. "Don't worry, you'll feel better once you start running," my friends reassured me. And for a few minutes I did. Then I realized something strange; I could no longer feel my limbs. You'd think this would be a bonus for an endurance race - hey, I'm flying! - but when I say I couldn't feel my limbs I mean I couldn't feel my body. It was the strangest feeling and not at all pleasant. I realized the downside to this when I tripped over a stick and caught it between my legs - it took me 10 feet to figure out why my legs weren't propelling me forward anymore. I also managed to tear off half my fingernail (Where? On what? Who knows??) and get a bruise on my thigh the size of a fist.

You remember the children's story The Red Shoes - little orphaned girl covets red dancing shoes, girl gets shoes and loves them more than anything else, the shoes become possessed and bind to her feet forcing her to dance until at last she convinces someone to chop off her feet. And then she dies! Charming little tale: deadly sin, demonic possession, punishment that way overshadows the crime - sure don't make fairytales like they used to! Well, I was now the girl in the red shoes. My legs only had one speed: sprint. So I ran the first three or four miles at a crazy pace and then it hit me. No, not another stick. The nausea that had been building now punched me in the stomach and I immediately knew I shouldn't have blogged about runners who poop their pants because I was pretty sure I was about to join their ranks. I stopped just long enough to blow chunks. Thankfully they came out of my mouth. (I never thought I'd be so grateful for barf!)

I have never, ever vomited during a race. Wanted to, yes. Done it, no. I walked a few paces and then my stupid possessed legs took off again. This became my strategy for the last 6 miles: sprint until I was 99% sure I was going to puke again and then walk. Sprint, heave, walk. Repeat. I'm pretty sure this particular strategy isn't covered in any of the major running manuals. Can't say I recommend it either. By mile 8 I just wanted to die. If I'd known the neighborhood at all, I would have ducked out of the race but I knew I had to make it to the finish line to find my friends and my ride home. So I continued to run the most schizophrenic race ever, alternately confusing and horrifying fellow runners and bystanders alike. Hey kids, don't do drugs!

The finish line is supposed to be a glorious moment where you sprint with your arms held high in the ecstasy of victory. I dragged over it after having walked most of the final mile, my possessed leg muscles twitching in protest. To be honest I don't remember much after that. I hugged Gym Buddy Dennis. Some man I didn't know gave me a picnic blanket to put over the two sweatshirts I was already wearing over my running clothes and I still couldn't stop shaking. I ate one bite of a salted nut roll only to throw it back up in my mouth. My legs were weak, I wanted to cry and my heart was beating so funny I was sure I'd just self-medicated myself into a heart attack. I kept a brave face on until I got home (at least I think I did, my friends would have to tell you how convincing I was) hoping that my husband would be home. He wasn't.

I burst into hysterical sobs, threw up again and eventually managed to drag myself into bed which is where my kids found me sometime later crying and hyperventilating. By the time my husband got up there I begged him to take me to the E.R. I was that sure I was dying. Instead he changed me into dry clothes, gave me a few sips of Sprite and put me back in bed where I spent the rest of the day. I couldn't eat a thing until this morning. Between sweat, tears and vomit I lost 3.5 pounds in 24 hours so while I missed my running best, I think I set a new PR in bodily fluid spewage.

To say I was bitterly disappointed in myself would be a massive understatement. I spent last night trying to decide which spot this event would take in my Top 10 List of Things I Most Regret. (Top 5, probably.) I spent most of this morning wishing for a do-over and calling myself every iteration of idiot I could muster. After avoiding it all day, I finally broke down and looked at my time on the race site. It wasn't great (1:37 - 9:40/mile) but you know what? It wasn't terrible. I finished. I cannot believe I finished at all. As far as mental toughness goes, this was by far the toughest race I have ever run. And yet I still did it.

Then I did something even better: I looked up the times for all of my friends that ran it. Since I'd puked up any last vestiges of pride and competitiveness, I was able to look at their times and just see their accomplishment. And it was a beautiful thing! I was so proud of them I started crying all over again but happy tears this time. Every person had to run their own race yesterday and they all did. Every single one finished. Megan got a PR in the half-marathon. Allison ran her first 10-miler and looked adorable doing it. Kandi & Ben finished within 1 second of each other (the couple that runs together, stays together!). Jeni ran her first 10-miler and hit her goal while her two young daughters cheered their hearts out for her. Other Megan #1 ran her first-ever half marathon and Other Megan #2 paced her step-for-step; they crossed together. Tom shaved 30 minutes off his last half time. Candice finished her first half marathon. Melissa and Julie and Greg and Other Megan #3 (seriously, we have that many Megans at the Y) and Jen and Other Allison all ran great runs.

In that moment I realized that if I can be proud of all of them - and I SO am! - then I can be proud of myself too. I may not be proud of what I did but I am proud of myself for finishing. And that is, after all, good enough.

What is your worst race story? Anyone else ever take a shortcut to help them only to have it massively backfire? What moment do you wish you could do over?

*I don't normally use actual numbers when I post because I know numbers are very triggering for some people and for the rest of us, well, comparisons are odious. My fast is your slow, my slow is your fast... whatever. But writing this out without the numbers ended up needing more calculus than I remember. My apologies if this made you nuts.

Post-race with our finisher's medals! Boy howdy did I earn this one.

The Best Indicator of Your Overall Health [Hint: It's not what you think]

It's not your BMI. It's not your cholesterol. It's also not your resting heart rate, your back squat max, your weight, your body fat percentage, your BMR, your RMR, your AT or even your SDTG. (Okay, I made that last one up; some of the alphabet was feeling left out.) It's definitely not your shoe size (although that is important to know). So what is the number that researchers have found that is the single best indicator of your overall health? Your VO2 max.

Which is how I found myself awake in a puddle of cold sweat at three a.m. last night. I am not a person who normally dreads a workout but whether it was flashbacks of Middle School P.E. - my teacher used to chase me around the track throwing footballs at my head until I cried - or just my perfectionist nature, I was scared. See, first thing in the morning in Boot Camp, the Gym Buddies and I were taking the Cooper Fitness test, an assessment used to find your VO2 max. And would consequently tell me if I am a worthwhile human being. (Note to self: write post about how I give numbers too much power in my life.)

How To Get Yours (For Free!)
The most accurate way to measure your VO2 max is to do the Darth-Vader-masked-run-on-a-treadmill test but that's spendy - expect to pay 150$ - 300$ - and I am nothing if not cheap. Also, the last time I did that test I almost* mooned the whole gym because I was running so hard my pants were falling down and I didn't dare spare a hand to hold them up because I was too occupied trying to keep my hands from ripping that suffocating mask off my face and hurling it at the nearest trainer.

The Cooper Test goes like this: run as hard as you can for 12 minutes and then given the distance that you cover (in meters, naturally, we're being scientific here remember?) and your age you can get a fairly accurate approximation of your VO2 max. It was exactly as fun as it sounds. Which is not at all. It was horrible pain. Maximal effort is bad enough in 20 second increments during Tabata sprints; it's hellacious when you do it for 12 minutes. Upon finishing our run - in a heap, on the dirty gym floor - Gym Buddy Allison exclaimed, "My insides have never hurt so much before!" But our suffering was not in vain: I'm proud to say all the Gym Buddies scored in the highest rank for both the run and our VO2 maxes.

(We won't talk about how this wasn't good enough for me because it was lower than the last time I had my max measured even though that was to be expected as we lose about 1% of our VO2 max per year as we age. So I stewed about it all day until Allison told me to get a grip and learn to live with being "just superior". Seriously, self, get on that "numbers mean too much to you" post.)

So why would anyone do such a thing to themselves just to get a number?

Your VO2 Max is your maximal oxygen uptake and reflects how well your body takes in and uses oxygen while you exercise. VO2 max "is widely accepted as the single best measure of cardiovascular fitness and maximal aerobic power. Absolute values of VO₂ max are typically 40-60% higher in men than in women.” Your average man has a VO2 max of 45, while an average woman's is 38. Just for comparison purposes (because who doesn't like to compare suburban soccer moms with the world's most elite athletes?), Greg LeMond's is 92.5 and the highest ever recorded, belonging to a Scandinavian cross country skier for which my keyboard doesn't even have the ability to type his name, is 96 - in his off season.

The Research
Danish researchers examined 86 men and 115 women, all between the ages of 23 and 27. They tested their VO2 max. They then studied their physical activity, blood pressure, blood lipids, body fat and smoking habits. As expected, a greater VO2 max was significantly correlated with a better cardiovascular profile. (And for your surprising research finding of the day: Physical activity was not correlated with a better cardiovascular profile.) This means that the higher the VO2 max, the lower the LDL cholesterol, body fat, and blood pressure. They also found that a higher VO2 max a correlates with a decrease in symptoms of the scary metabolic syndrome and is an "excellent predictor" of heart attack risk.

The take-home message from today's workout is if you want to lower your cholesterol, blood pressure, body fat and bikini inhibitions, then your workouts need to be intense enough to increase your VO2 max. If better heart health is your goal, it isn't enough just to be physically active (although physical activity of any intensity has numerous other benefits). You have to keep pushing yourself. Never get comfortable! And also: Remember that numbers are just tools to help you understand yourself better, they are not value judgments. (Repeat three times every morning.)

So do you know your VO2 max? How important are numbers to you? Are you able to look at them as just information or do they pack an emotional wallop too? Have you ever mooned anyone accidentally or on purpose??

*Not to be confused with the time I DID actually moon the whole gym thanks to a heavy pager from the childcare center attached to my weakly elasticized yoga pants. Good times!

Your Top Fears About Exercise - Solved!

This will not surprise you: I spend a considerable amount of my life trying to convince people to try new things. It ranges from small things like trying to get a stranger at the grocery store to try the free yogurt sample with me (it's less gross if you do the fiber shots with a friend!) to big things like voting (you! Vote!!) to the gross things like convincing my three pre-men that peeing IN the toilet rather than just in its general direction will result in sunshine, puppies and a happy mother (not literally puppies of course, I cannot have another incontinent bladder in the house). But aside from literally having to mop down my walls - that's why we painted them high gloss Mr. Home Depot man! - the most common changes I champion are of the fitness variety.

So, naturally, I hear a lot of excuses (some refer to them as legitimate reasons but whatevs.) They are varied and occasionally creative but they usually distill down to some variation of the following:

Excuse: I might be bad at it.
My answer: Of course you will. If you expect to be the best at everything you try then you will never try anything. Just accept that it probably won't come naturally to you - if it did you would have figured it out by now and you'd be playing pro golf with Tiger - and move on. I'll let you in on a not-so-secret of mine: I suck at most things I try. Especially at first. That's why God invented giggling. Everyone is horrible at something but it doesn't mean you still can't enjoy it! Have we learned nothing from American Idol? Other variations of this theme include "I'm too uncoordinated" "I'm not a runner" and "I spaz like a three-legged chicken whenever anyone starts counting backwards."

Excuse: I might not like it.
My answer: True. I've done lots of things I hated. But I've always learned something from it so it's not a waste of time. I'm not asking you to pick out curtains with it; just try it twice. Try it once and you'll probably hate it but go a second time and guaranteed there will be someone newer than you there. It's amazing what feeling like a "regular" does for your confidence! And if you try it twice and still hate it? Cross it off your list. You'll get no grief from me.

Excuse: People will stare at me.
My answer: You lucky dog. I've been making desperate bids for attention practically my whole life and still rarely get a chuckle from a passerby. But seriously, I do realize that some people are not as exhibitionistic as I am and balk at getting checked out. This is especially true in a gym setting but can be true for any fitness endeavor. I'm not going to lie to you and tell you that people really aren't watching you. They are. They might be ranking you on the hotness scale. They might be making fun of you. They might be wondering where you got those sexysexy yoga pants. They might be staring off into the distance in your general direction. But chances are, whatever they're thinking, unless you're Marissa Miller or David Beckham, you're not the main attraction. So if you just keep going about your business, then so will they. (Alternative option: if you are really brave/confrontational, stare right back at them. Ear wiggling optional.)

Excuse: I don't know what I'm doing.
My answer: Nobody does. At least not at first. There is nothing natural about the chest press or a roundhouse - they're learned skills. And thankfully most of us "regulars" (man I feel like I'm subliminally pimping fiber here - yay for poop!) remember what it was like to be a newbie. We'll help you if you ask! Or ask a friend you trust to show you around. Or one of those gym employees standing around looking bored. Asking questions doesn't make you look silly, it makes you look smart. Besides, teachers love it when you ask them questions. It's so much easier than trying to read your mind based solely on that squinched-up face you're making.

Excuse: I might get hurt.
My answer: This one's a certainty. You will get hurt. But think how cool the battle scar will be to show off to all your buddies! I know, I know, some people have legitimate health issues but seeing as my paraplegic friend spanks me in basketball, surely you can find something that won't exacerbate your bursitis. Besides, exercise provides a huge range of health benefits so that scraped shin or rolled ankle will be totally worth it in the end! And if you tell someone you're really sore from weight lifting/yoga/recumbent hand biking then you might even get a free massage out of it. (Just don't tell them your butt is sore. I once had someone at the gym ask me to massage their butt for them because they had a big ol' knot in it. That led to one of the longest awkward silences I've ever participated in. Just... no.)

Excuse: I might get bored.
My answer: Then you're doing it wrong.

This list is by no means exhaustive so fill me in: what are you afraid of? What holds you back from exercising? You have some good advice to relieve people's fears? Has anyone ever asked you to massage a strange body part for them?

October's Great Racing Experiment

Best running costume evah!! (Although it looks like a nightmare to run in)

I'm often asked if I get bored of doing Experiments, if I ever tire of looking for new ones or if blogging them ever gets tedious. My answer: Nope, not ever and I looooovvveee it! Truth to be told, I'd be doing my schizophrenic fitness thing whether or not anyone else wanted to read about it (although I'm sure glad that you do - it's so much more fun with company!). So hopefully you will forgive me for already starting October's Great Fitness Experiment without telling you about it.

Thus far, all 5 days of my Experiment has already found me sitting at the end of my treadmill having an adult tantrum. I'm ashamed to admit there were tears and a towel was thrown. Mercifully, Gym Buddy Megan snapped me out of it before I could really embarrass myself and told me sternly to get over myself already. Y'all, she used her mom voice on me. I had to shape up; I feared getting sent to time out. (She'd do it too.) So what would cause this kind of gym hysterics?

Running. Of course.

And not just any running! This year the Gym Buddies and I will be running Monster Dash. Two of my favorite passions combined: fitness and costumes! (Plus this race is known for its sick swag! Check out the finisher's medals!) Both Gym Buddy Megans are running the half marathon, Allison, Jeni and I are running the 10 miler and Krista is (probably) running the 5K. We've already stocked up on sparkly tutus, knee high Halloween socks and colored hairspray! I'm trying to talk them into fake facial tattoos. It's going to be a freakin' riot. So why the tears?

See, I've taken running for granted. It used to be one of those few athletic endeavors (after yoga and the circus arts) that came relatively easy to me. Oh not at the beginning it didn't - I began my foray into fitness by running up the hill next to my condo in Seattle in the predawn darkness, slowly and painfully - but eventually it seemed like one of those things that while I'll never be a pro at, I can at least do with some confidence. I could look someone in the eye and say "I'm a runner" and have them actually believe me. Most of the time.

But having the Jelly Bean 11 months ago (yes, it really has been that long!) has really thrown me off my running. You may recall when I was pregnant, I had to give up running around 6 months because of terrible hip flexor pain. That pain, which made it hard to even lift my legs much less do it repeatedly, continued for several months after she was born. (Side note: for those of you curious, I finally figured out the hip pain was from my abs being so weak. Once I stopped with the crazy ab routines - P90X, ahem - my hip pain completely went away! And I haven't had any problems since and have even been able to return to doing ab work.) All of this resulted in the farthest I'd run in about a year was maybe 3 miles.

The Monster Dash is ten miles.

At first I told myself I just wanted to finish. That I was just doing this for fun. But then my competitive streak took over - running 10 miles used to be a piece of cake, darnnit! - and while I don't plan on PR'ing, I'd like to stay under my goal time. That treadmill tantrum was because I'd only been able to maintain race pace for 6.8 miles. Today's run was better - nothing was thrown and the Gym Buddies didn't need to send me to bed early - but I'm still not confident I'll be able to run the race that I want. So, October's Great Fitness Experiment is to train for and run my first race post-partum. (And also to learn to chill the heck out and just enjoy the experience instead of making everything so hard for myself.)

September's Great Bootcamp Experiment went (and is still going, actually) fabulously! It's made me toilet sore at least once and our Smiley Trainer kicks my butt every single time. I love bootcamps and I think the best thing about them is their versatility. It's a different workout every week and you can shove practically any exercise under the umbrella of "bootcamp." Kettlebells! Bosu! Sprinting! TRX! Track drills! It's like a smorgasbord of fitness! You should definitely try one if you get the chance.

So - any of you signed up for fall races? Have you ever taken a particular ability for granted only to discover later that it doesn't come back as easily as you'd expected? Anyone else ever throw a gym tantrum?? (Please tell me I am not the only person who's done this!) Any tips for me on how to mellow out the crazy and just have fun with this?

The Trick to Tabata Workouts [Bring a Barf Bag]

This is one way to ensure you are running at maximal ability. Not that I recommend it.

20 seconds of work followed by 10 seconds of rest. That's one Tabata interval or "Tabata" if you're in the gym and want to sound like all the cool kids. Sounds simple, right? This little gem, a staple of most of the hardest workouts around, revolutionized - some say even began - the fitness frenzy surrounding high intensity interval training or "HIIT." (To prove you're both hip and culturally relevant, feel free to tell your workout partner to "HIIT me baby, one more time!" Bonus points if you do the hair-flippy move. Extra bonus points if your partner replies, "Ok, Bit-Bit!"(Double parenthetical: Have you seen that video lately? She was such an earnest little singer! And, also, there's no way she hasn't had a boob job.))

Why Tabatas?
So how could something so simple be so revolutionary? According to the research, first started by Tabata himself on elite Japanese athletes, doing as little as four minutes (or 8 Tabatas) can increase your aerobic capacity, anaerobic capacity, VO2 max, resting metabolic rate, burn more fat (and make you look 200% crazier) not only as good as, but better than, a traditional 60 minute aerobic workout. That's right - 4 minutes of Tabatas can get you better fitness gains than a whole hour of running on the treadmill.

How To Do Tabatas
So why isn't everyone doing them? Well I said it was simple but I never said it was easy. In fact, if it is easy then you're doing it wrong. Those 20 seconds of rest are balls-to-the-wall* all out 100% effort. You should see stars. Your heart should be trying to claw a hole in your chest cavity to get out. You should be able to play Rorshach in the ginormous puddle of sweat surrounding your machine. You might even see a light and a long tunnel (don't worry, you're not dying it's just the flashlight thingy the medics are shining in your eyes to check for a concussion after you passed out and hit your head on the treadmill handlebars.) You know those RPE (rate of perceived exertion) charts on the wall of every gym? During Tabatas, you should be a 10+. Barftastic!

Contrary to popular belief, you do not have to be a runner to do Tabatas. Any aerobic activity - biking, swimming, jump roping, boxing, squatting, Matrix-style building jumping - can be adapted to a Tabata interval. Although for beginners, running is probably the simplest way to start. For myself, the best (read: hardest) Tabatas I've ever done were punching Sensei Don during Karate class. Yeah, yeah, he was holding pads up. (I split my knuckles wide open on 'em and he still made me finish! I have never been so proud of workout wounds.) Incidentally, the very first Great Fitness Experiment I ever ran - over 3 years ago - was Tabata intervals for twenty horrible minutes on the stationary bike. To this day, the Gym Buddies and I do them about once a week.

To do a running Tabata, all you need is a track or a treadmill. If you are on the track, simply run at full speed for 20 seconds, stop and suck wind like you're the only windmill keeping South Dakota on the grid for 10 insanely short seconds, and then repeat 7 more times. If you are on the tready, power that baby up until it sounds like a jet ready for takeoff. The Gym Buddies and I do max speed but just do whatever you think is the fastest you can run. It will look scary and too fast but you'll be fine once you jump on, I promise. (Or you'll fall off. I've done that too. You'll still be fine, albeit a tad rug-burned.) Jump on and run for 20 seconds. Straddle the belt and hoover in some air for 10 seconds. Repeat 7 times.

The Trick
The trick to a good Tabata workout is this: a good timer. You cannot estimate when 20 seconds and 10 seconds have passed. I promise you. No matter how good you think you are 1-mississippi-ing, your brain will be so fuzzy that you will need help. If you are running on a treadmill you can use the clock on the display - just make sure you start on a 0 or you'll have to do math and sprint at the same time which adds a level of difficulty not even Einstein would want.

If you're not on a treadmill though, timing is hard. There is an iPhone app for it (if there's a "Pocket Girlfriend" app, of course there's a Tabata timer!) but who wants to hold their phone in their sweaty hand while they're sprinting so hard that blackness is overtaking their vision thereby making it highly likely they will crash into something (a real girlfriend, maybe?)? You can download a "Tabata song" onto your iPod that just beeps repetitively for half an hour but then you can't listen to your music while you do it. You can also program your watch to beep in intervals but if you can figure out how to do that then you're smarter than me and my computer science degree put together. (Ok, not that that's hard - I'm a ridiculously bad programmer.)

The easiest way I've found is to just get a simple gym timer. Gymboss sent me one of theirs to try out for free and I really liked it. Its only purpose in life is to be an interval timer. No worries about deleting your podcast or resetting your lap count or accidentally changing your ring tone to *beep* 20 seconds *beep* 10 seconds. You can set it to any interval you'd like and it also has a vibrate option if you prefer to be discreet with your Tabata-lovin'.

Any of you love (to hate) Tabatas like I do? How do you time yours? Are you the kind of person who prefers short super-intense workouts or would you rather run at a steady pace for 60 minutes than endure a HIIT? Anyone else ever fallen off the treadmill??

*All these years I've been saying this, I have thought it had something to do with running balls - as in basketballs, kickballs, whatever-balls - to the wall in some kind of mad speed drill. But having just typed that out I think it may perhaps have a cruder meaning? Although I can't imagine what those balls would have to do with walls and running. Please don't disillusion me. Update: Chelsey educated me in the comments, "I believe that "balls to the wall" is actually an aviation metaphor. That stick that they push forward to make the plane go faster has a ball on top of it and when it's pushed "to the wall" you are going all out." So both my innocent and dirty thoughts were wrong! Buwhahahah!

September's Great Fitness Experiment: Boot Camp

Oh this? Just a one-handed bar push up. No biggie. Couple more reps and you can go back to hanging by your knees. Pansies.

"Kettlebells..." That right there would have been enough to grab my attention but then he added, "IN THE POOL." It was as if someone had shouted "Fox just un-cancelled Firefly!" at Comic-Con. Awestruck silence filled the gym. I love kettlebells. I don't not love pools. (How's that for a ringing endorsement? It's the best you'll get out of me.) But whoever thought of kettlebells in the pool? Our boot camp instructor - who busts all drill-sergeant stereotypes by being super smiley and routinely saying things like "Isn't it a great day for planks?!" - was telling us about a new high-intensity boot camp class he was starting up.

The spell was shattered when Gym Buddy Allison asked, "Would we be in the deep end?" and Gym Buddy Megan answered her with, "Yeah but if you drop the 'bell, you have to dive down and bring it back up in your teeth." Man, I love those girls.

The Gym Buddies and I have been attending a boot camp class once a week for several years. Cycling through several different instructors, we thought we'd seen all permutations of the boot camp format. I dare you to find a type of push-up that we haven't tried (and yes I'm including the Victoria's Secret variety - when you've had as many children as we have, the girls need all the fluffing they can get). But one sample of the new HIIT boot camp - that's high intensity interval training, the latest and greatest of cardio fitness trends - and we were hooked. He made us sprint on the treadmill. WITHOUT TURNING IT ON. Try it - it's hard! (Unless you happen to own a manual treadmill and then I suppose you're used to it. You warrior.)

Normally I don't do classes for Experiments. For one thing it gets pricey; when you do a new fitness program every month, costs can really add up. For another, it makes it hard for any of you to follow along if you love pain as much as I do. But despite being a pretty solid self motivator - you don't do three years of fitness Experiments without being a little fanatical - sometimes even I need someone else to kick my butt for me. So for September's Great Fitness Experiment the Gym Buddies and I will be paying someone to get all Jillian up in our business. That is if Jillian said things like, "Don't high knees just feel awesome?! What a great day for high knees!"

Have you ever done a boot camp style class? HIIT workouts - love 'em or hate 'em (or just love to hate 'em)? Lastly, do you have a novel push up idea for us to try? We're putting together our next Gym Buddies video and we'd love to give you a shout-out on camera!

When Old People Attack: Swimming Experiment Results!

Things would have gone better for me had I had one of these caps, I know it!

Either you're a swimmer or you're not. False dichotomy though it may be, there is an easy test to see which camp you fall in. When someone tells you, "Let's swim half a mile." do you answer, "Sure! It only takes me 4 or 5 minutes to run a half mile so this should be a piece of cake!"? If so, you are not a swimmer. If you answer, "How far is a half mile? Like... 10 laps?" you are not a swimmer. If you even think, "Are goggles and a swim cap really mandatory? 'Cause the former make my eyes bulge like Marty Feldman and the latter is just ugly." then you are not a swimmer. (Although you are wicked good with your '80's movie trivia!)

If you just snap your goggles into place, jump into the pool with nary a whimper about the cold and start stroking, then you are a swimmer.

Our first pool workout for August's Great Fitness Experiment went swimmingly - you knew that was coming! - all the way up to the point where we actually got in the water. Our Y being, well, our Y, naturally there were no lanes open for actual swimming as they prefer to keep 99% of the pool available for elderly aquatics classes that oddly resemble square dancing in slow motion. So we were banished to the "leisure pool" where we did a pool workout that I got from Fitness magazine. It was ridiculously easy. We tried everything we could to get our hearts pumping but instead we ended up comparing our pedicures while sculling in random circles around the pool. (Gym Buddy Megan's toenails were a classic red, mine were a zombie-esque blue and Allison's were naked, poor thing. Knowledge you needed; you're welcome.)

If you will recall, the entire purpose of August's Swimming Experiment was to get Gym Buddy Allison ready for her very first triathlon, a sprint tri that included a half-mile open water swim. Clearly, pedi-sculling and otter-rolling over a beach ball (which is awesome fun, by the way) were not going to get us to that point. So we did what we had to do and started swimming some laps. In the 3-foot leisure pool. It only took three laps before the old folks attacked.

"You're not allowed to swim in the swimming pool!" yelled a white-haired gent without a trace of irony.

"Yeah," chimed in a woman who was obviously very invested in keeping her bouffant dry, "this is a LEISURE pool."

"Well I happen to find this very leisurely," Allison explained sweetly as we backstroked around them like some sort of rogue synchronized swimming team taking hostages.

The next day we were back in the pool again but for real this time. There was one lane open for lap swimming and we intended to use the heck out of it. No matter that it was already occupied by three other women which would make six of us in one lane. We optimistically snapped on our goggles (I borrowed mine from my eight-year-old - I'm Batman!) and plunged in.

"So... half a mile," I said. "How far is that exactly?"

"I dunno," Allison replied. "Let's ask the lifeguard."

"Do you mean a swimmer's mile or a land mile?" he asked in return.

Allison started to answer but I interrupted her with, "Whichever one is shorter."

After giving me a long considering look as if to decide whether to address me as an adult or the child I was acting like, he answered, "A swimmer's mile is 35 laps." (Another way to tell you are not a swimmer is to be unaware of the controversy surrounding how far a swimmer's mile actually is. There is calculus involved.)

We sighed with relief. "We can swim down this thing 35 times, no problem!" Allison chirped.

"You do know that a 'lap' means down and back, right?" he added.

No, sir. No we did not know that. (I must point out here that Megan did, in fact, know this but she was not there at this juncture and so it was just Allison and I, as clueless as one can be in Batman goggles.)

"Okay, we got this. We just have to swim down there 70 times!"

"No, wait," I pointed out, "we have to halve that!"

"So.... that's..." Crickets.

"Half of 70 is 35. And half of 30 is 15 plus 4 which is... 19!" I announced erroneously.

"I thought it was 18," Allison said, also wrong. (Why oh why did they have to pick an odd number?)

"Why didn't we just ask the lifeguard for a half a mile in the first place?"

"Well we can't ask him now. He already thinks we're idiots."

"We are idiots."

"Let's just start swimming and see how far we can get, ok?" Did I mention Allison only had two weeks to train for her triathlon? There's a reason the girl was getting antsy.

We made it four laps before we were clutching the side of the pool and gasping for breath. I will tell you this: In three years of trying every conceivable workout I have never been so close to vomiting as I was in that moment. There are workouts and then there is swimming. It was a gut-wrenchingly, head-to-toe achingly, can't-breathe-for-at-least-3-life-threatening-reasons brutal workout. For the first time I understood why people watch the Summer Olympics for events other than gymnastics.

I was ready to be done. But Megan was already off like a fish, ahead of us by 10 laps or so, and Allison was on a mission. We pressed on for the full half mile. (-ish, my counting got a little garbled. Turns out I can't even do basic math when my Batman goggles turn out to be complete duds and yet I have to drive home so I can't lose a contact thereby forcing me to swim with my head out of the water the entire time making me almost as ridiculous as the Bouffant Lady.)

The next day I was sore everywhere, just like several of you warned me I would be. The strangest part was that I was most sore right under each butt cheek, where my leg joins my derriere. Who knew I even had a muscle there?! The worst effect though was - heaven help me - the Gym Buddies freaking loved it. LOVED IT.

Sensing lap workouts long after August ends, I broke down and bought a decent pair of goggles. I still hate swimming. But I hate it a little less than I used to. Plus, I have to admire a workout that brutal. It never did get much easier for me - every swimming workout felt like choreographed drowning - but I did love how it made me feel when we finished.

As for Allison, despite having never swam in open water, girlfriend finished her tri under two hours and suffered nothing more serious than chocolate-covered cleavage thanks to a protein bar she was inexplicably storing down her top.

Which necessitated a little post-race clean up:

(Not pictured: my four-year-old son eating the protein bar off the ground while the rest of us were distracted congratulating her.)

She rocked the running and biking portions and, more importantly, got bit by the tri bug and is already planning her next one! Way to go, Al!!

Gym Buddy Megan and I (a.k.a. The Dry Ones) flanking our victorious girl!

So, any of you change your mind about swimming this month? Anyone else in the "I don't hate it but I'll never love it" club? What's your favorite Summer Olympics event to watch??

Plateau Busting 101

Manscaping your nipple hair to attach to your nostril hair won't help you lose weight butI admire his willingness to change things up! Also, I think this dude shaved a swatch down the top of his head. That might be my fave part.

Sprained ankles. Broken bones. Gym Hottie rejection. Stolen spots. The occupied state of the "lucky" treadmill. Pistol whipped by a resistance band. A personal trainer with cold calipers and cold fingers. All the TVs locked onto The Hallmark Channel during a Nicholas Sparks cry-a-thon. Discovering the protein powder mixed in your water bottle is actually infant formula. There are many reasons for tears in the gym and I've seen my fair share of them. (Okay, that last one was me. (Fine, all of them were me. Shut up.)) But the number one reason I've seen people of both genders collapse in hysterics can be summed up by one word:

Plateau. duh-duh-duh!

Enter from stage left (gym studio left?) my gorgeous, leggy, thin, blond friend. While she recently had a great deal of success losing some poundage, she was not quite yet to her goal and yet her weight loss had stagnated. This, in spite of continuing with her healthy eating and exercise habits. Nothing, my friends, sucks worse than doing "everything right" and have it not work anymore. I wrote a detailed - and rather witty, if I do say so myself - post on plateaus and how to deal with them back in January. (Really go read that one first.) That one deals with all touchy-feely weepy aspects of the Dieter's Nightmare. (And you thought it was those awful Weight Watcher "cakes" that appear twice their real size on the outside of the box and taste just like the inside of the box. If the box was spread with chocolate-colored grout.) The basic gist is that we've all been there. Some of us are still there. It royally stinks.

But my friend wanted more detail about point #4, "Change it up." (Well, actually she just wanted to borrow my Jillian Michaels book Master Your Metabolism but I can't find it - I loaned that sucker to somebody, if you know who you are can I please have it back? K thx! - so I offered her my advice as a sorry second.) There are a ton of variables to try changing to see if you can kickstart your metabolism back into high octane burn. Here are a few suggestions to try and a few not to try:

Try It!
1. Interval training. The science really supports this one. Intervals done right are very painful (you're training at 90% or more of your maximum ability) but they are short. As with most exercise, more is not better (hgh, human growth hormone, works while you rest, remember?) but do try working in a couple of interval workouts a week. 20 minutes max is all you need. And don't tack them on to another workout. Seriously. Because then you won't be able to give those intervals your all. Bored of treadmill sprints (or they give you shin splints)? Try bike sprints. Or rowing sprints. Or, heaven help you because you will barf, swimming sprints.

2. Mess around with your macronutrient ratios. Recent research has shown that eating fat and protein for breakfast can give you a metabolic boost that will help you burn fat throughout the day and help you stay full longer. I'm not saying cut out healthy carbs all together, just don't fear the fat! And don't mess around with that Smart Balance stuff - go for the full fat butter, coconut oil, olive oil, heavy cream and whole eggs. For instance, my go-to breakfast these days are my (by way of Deb, Allie, Heather and half the fit-o-sphere) protein pancakes topped with a tablespoon of coconut oil or two tablespoons of heavy cream.

3. Try a new type of exercise. Always do step class? Try martial arts. Die-hard runner? Try boot camp. There are more ways to exercise than even I can blog about (not that I'm not trying, mind you) and change is good. It shocks your body and will make you sore in places you didn't know you could be sore!

4. Cut back on your cardio. For many of us, the instinct to just do more - more classes, more miles, more laps - is strong. If some is good, more is better right? Not so with exercise. And you know that I speak from experience here. Too much cardio actually teaches your body to store fat, can increase your hunger or just convince you that since you ran 10 miles you can eat whatever you want, goldanggit. Many of the leanest people I know (holla, MizFit!) do minimal cardio and focus mainly on the weights. I'm not telling you not to do cardio - you can have my endorphin rush when you pry it out of my cold dead fingers, er, neurons - just to resist the impulse to do more of it. If you want to run a marathon to prove to yourself you can do it or because you love to run or because racing gives you a thrill or even just because you think the finisher's tee is adorable then you should totally do it! But if you are running a marathon because you think it will make you lose 10 pounds, rethink that.

5. Lift heavy stuff. If you haven't started lifting weights, do it. Not just because adding muscle will increase your resting metabolism (not by a ton, but every little bit helps) or because muscle takes up less space than fat but because it is good for you in so many ways. Increased bone mass. Stronger heart. Fewer varicose veins (unless you squat too heavy and then you can get hemorrhoids but that's another post). Increased confidence. And if you already lift weights, change it up: try lifting heavy with few reps, or light with many reps. Try doing supersets. Lots and lots of different programs out there.

6. Eat more calories. This may sound counterintuitive but I think by now we've all heard about how our metabolisms will head off into the Siberia of starvation mode if it thinks it's not being sufficiently fed. Cutting back on your calories only helps you lose weight to a point. You may actually need to eat a bit more. How to tell? Do you feel tired, lethargic and/or more cold than usual? Have you lost your sex drive? Losing your hair? Brittle or strangely ridged nails?

7. Get your metabolism tested. If you have health insurance and this isn't too costly, this can be a good thing to do if nothing else is working. Get your thyroid tested (especially if you are pregnant, recently were pregnant, are lactating or are female and over 50). Get your vitamin and hormone levels checked. It can't hurt and who knows - it might turn up a health issue you need to know about!

Maybe
1. Calorie counting. For me this one is a loaded weapon but the truth is that it takes you an hour to burn 500 calories but it only takes you five minutes to eat a Cinnabon. It's much easier to watch what you eat than to change your exercise. If you are trying to break through a plateau it can be useful to track your calories for a while to help you be honest with yourself about what and how much you are really eating. It can also help you see patterns (like, say, if you hit a plateau at a certain time of the month every month.). But if you decide to do this one, do it with care and kindness. Too many of us have sacrificed our well being and mental health on the (un)holy altar of FitDay.

2. Cleanses. I've never done one of these. While I do fast for 24 hours once a month for religious reasons (I'm a Mormon), I've never tried a fasting or juice or any other "cleanse." I have friends that swear by them. I remain dubious. If you do one, drop me a line (or write a comment) and tell me about your experience with these!

Don't Do It
1. Pills. Just remember this: if they actually worked, every one would buy them and we'd all be thin. They don't work and they prey on your hope and your pocketbook.
2. Extreme diets. Sure you'll drop pounds but you'll drop so much more than that too. This is how eating disorders are born.
3. Over-exercise. Learn from me. Please. If there is any silver lining to having gone to treatment twice for exercise addiction, it is that perhaps I can spare some of you a similar fate.
4. Tapeworms. Um, ew.

I know I didn't hit everything - what suggestions do you have for busting through a weight loss plateau? What have you tried that has worked? What have you tried that hasn't?

Help, I'm Having a Metabolic Reaction! [Send Jelly Beans, Stat.]

Today I experienced one of those weird occurrences that have baffled me ever since I seriously got into fitness - call it the Bermuda Triangle of Exercise, if you will. Just like Amelia Earhart - but less heroic and revolutionary and without the rubber helmet (just what exactly was that supposed to protect you from anyhow?) - today I awoke to a morning just like every other morning, not knowing that by the end of the day I'd be in the grip of a natural phenomenon that science is at a loss to describe. CrossFitters, with their characteristic understatement, have taken to calling what happened to me today "a metabolic reaction."

So there I was, dreaming blissfully of gym underwear that won't wedgify, when I awoke to a toddler shoving a balloon in my lips and commanding me to "fix it." The balloon, like all toys in their natural state at my house, was broken. This is awesome in two respects: a) every mother knows that popped balloons are Public Enemy Number 1 as they are the worst choking hazard known to humankind - not even the best EMT can dislodge the nefarious party good from a tiny windpipe, thereby requiring me to forcibly seize said balloon pieces, leading to b) an argument with a tiny person whose reasoning skills can best be described as "on the fritz." It was an inauspicious start to my day. Needless to say, I missed out on my first a.m. meditation.

The gym started out mellow with Gym Buddy Allison and I running laps and catching up on our weekends. We then moved on to the Monkey Bar Gym workout for the day and amused all the men on the weight floor by attempting plyo pushups alternated with "gorilla ups" - a plyo pull-up with a chest slap (hence the gorilla) at the top. As we were finishing up, we noticed Gym Buddy Krista in one of the studios. At first we were confused as to why she wasn't working out with us and then I realized with a bolt of panic that I had signed all the Gym Buddies up for a kettlebell tutorial immediately followed by a Pilates Reformer class. Today. Allison and I ran in sweaty and disoriented.

So after getting a good burn from the MBG and sweating buckets in the kettlebell class, we started on the Reformer already a bit shaky. I'm not used to an hour and a half of straight no-rest strength training and so by the end was a gooey quivering mess of flesh. All good workouts - don't get me wrong, I enjoyed them! - but I was hammered. By the time I got home I knew I was going to have a "metabolic reaction."

Knowing what was coming, I did my best to prepare. I fed the kids lunch, settled the baby for a nap and the preschooler with a movie and tried to get some work done before it hit. And hit it did. The first time I had a MR, I ended up passed out on the wood kitchen floor, asleep for a solid 30 minutes while my children ran circles around me. And when I say asleep, I don't mean cat-napping. I mean o-u-t. Tornado sirens would not wake me. So today as soon as I started to feel tingly and woozy, I ran upstairs to my bed. I didn't wake up until the first grader got home off the bus. And then I continued to feel unwell - spacey, tingly, fragile and with a ferocious and insatiable craving for simple sugary carbs - for the rest of the evening. I'd be in bed again now except I still have to grade the cursed SATs tonight.

This isn't the first time I've had a MR. Normally it happens when I try a new and particularly challenging workout. I'm not alone in this. Gym Buddy Allison has experienced a MR and it's also well documented on the CrossFit forums. But I haven't been able to predict exactly what circumstances will trigger a MR. What causes it? How do I prevent it? And what is it exactly? It's not just a function of too much exercise - I've gone hours longer than what I did today with no ill effects. It's also not like "bonking" in an endurance race (I've done that too and while it feels awful, it's awful in an entirely different way.)

Does anyone else know what I'm talking about? Anyone else ever have a metabolic reaction to exercise? What did you do? Anybody figured out a way to prevent them?

I'd really like to get to figure it out because I really can't be doing this when I have a houseful of little kids with a predilection for playing with popped balloons.

PS> This post is a rerun from February 2009 but I am putting it up again because a few days ago I had - oh yes - a metabolic reaction. And it throws me EVERY TIME. So please, yes to any advice/explanations/science-y stuff/commiseration.

Mini-Experiment: The Circus Workout is the Most Fun I've Ever Had

I'm running away to join the circus. You will forgive my impending abuse of hyperbolic punctuation, then: OHMYGOSH YOU GUYS I HAD SOOOOO MUCH FUN!!!!!!

Last night was my first - and definitely not last - circus class at Gleason's Gymnastics (for any of you locals looking for a fun time). For some reason nobody else signed up for my class so I got a two-hour private lesson with Shannon and Sam who are competitive circus performers. (Side note: would you not love to see a circus competition? I picture a lot of backstage nose tweaking and fake-flower water squirting.)

Circus jokes aside, this stuff is a serious workout. You should see Shannon and Sam; they are two of the buffest people I have ever met. We started off "warming up" on the trampoline where I'm impressed everyone with my mad seat-drop skillz. And my ability to carpet-burn my elbows on every single trick. The gym was unconditioned and with the heat index here in Minneapolis being about 100 degrees F, within 20 minutes I sweating so much I could barely see and I smelled like a monkey post-feces fight. Bikram Circus class!

Next up was the apparatus (apparati? apparatuses?). I did the aerial silks (pictured above and probably my favorite), the trapeze (also my favorite), the straps (would have been my favorite had it not left really angry red welts all over my arms), the tightrope (my favorite because I walked across it without falling on my very first try and was even able to kneel down and stand back up again which made me proud like Tina Turner even though the rope was only about a foot off the ground thereby saving me from crotching myself but whatever I'm done having kids anyhow), and the balance board thingy (not my favorite - there is no flying involved). We ran out of time to do the hammock, the aerial hoop and the juggling but they promised me I could try them next time I come.

Because all of the stunts are very upper body intensive, it is a killer workout for your arms, shoulders, back and lats. Nothing is more motivating to keep pushing than the knowledge that if you do let go you will plummet 35 feet to the mats below. Gives a whole new meaning to "muscle failure" - no way to cheat your sets when you're swinging upside down from a trapeze! Combined with swimming laps yesterday morning for August's Great Fitness Experiment I don't know if I've ever worked my upper body so hard. (Confession: I am going to rename this month's GFE to the Great Humility Experiment because great googley-moogely, swimming is hard. We went in to swim a half mile thinking it would be a piece of cake and 30 minutes of clawing our way through the water trying not to kick anyone in the head we finally did. Technically only Gym Buddies Allison and Megan did. I was 3 laps short and still thought I was going to die. Know what happens when you are sucking wind in the pool? You drown. All of you guys that told me I'd be sore in places I didn't know I had were so very very right. Unfortunately for me, Allison and Megan looooved it so I see a lot of lap swimming in my future. Good thing I love these girls.)

My conclusion: Not only is a circus class a fantastic workout both for cardio and strength but it is hands-down the most fun Experiment I have ever done. And I have loved me a lot of different workouts. This one truly felt like I was just having fun - I got to fly like in my dreams! - and the exercise was incidental. There was not a single moment where I felt like I had to just gut through it. Plus Shannon and Sam told me I was the best first-time student they've ever had (I climbed to the top of the silks and rang the bell on my first try!) so it appears that after being just so-so (I'm all heart but not much athletic ability, 'tis true) at most athletic endeavors, I might have found something that I have a natural aptitude for. Look for me in a circus near you! Except I refuse to eat circus peanuts; those are the nastiest candy ever created, like packing peanuts but grosser.

So tell me, what kind of workout just feels like FUN to you? Any of you love that feeling of flying through the air or are you afraid of heights? Which candy gets your vote for most disgusting?

August's Great Fitness Experiment: The Experiment I Said I'd Never Do.

I said I'd never do it. (Of course, I also said I wasn't blogging anymore and apparently that means a one-month hiatus to my chatty self. I'm baaack. I don't know how frequently but I have to have somewhere to post the pictures you KNOW I'm going to take during my CIRCUS AERIAL CLASS next Tuesday!!) "It's too cold," I said. "It's too naked," I said. "I don't want to do an Experiment that requires aggressive bikini-line maintenance," I said. And before your mind goes to poles and lucite heels, I also said, "I hate breathing in that layer of wet chlorinated air and having to do my hair and having my skin dry out and..." I whine a lot.

For August's Great Fitness Experiment, the Gym Buddies and I are - oh yes - swimming. I would like to say this was not my idea. Gym Buddy Allison signed up to do her first Triathlon and in the spirit of helping her train, we are all going to be swimming with her. (Heaven knows I've made her do enough ridiculous Experiments that I owe her one.) Seeing as girlfriend already has quads that could snap a thighmaster - with Suzanne Sommers attached - she's ready for the bike and the run. The swim though?

None of the Gym Buddies, including myself, have swum a single lap in, oh, about 10 years. At first I had visions of 8th grade P.E. and veering wildly out of my lane until I collided with Jack-who-always-smelled-like-poo-even-in-the-water who then told me that I had "hit his special button" causing me to jump screaming out of the water before I could find out what his "special button" did. But then someone told me that in a Tri, you don't have to freestyle. (Why is it called Freestyle, when it is actually a very prescribed stroke? There is nothing free about it. Dog paddling - now that's "free style".) Apparently you can do whatever the heck it takes to get you out to the buoys and back without drowning or entangling yourself in all that nasty gunk that grows in the lakes here ("Crystal" Lake my heinie.)

Thanks to my parents who insisted that learning how to swim was a life skill, I know how to not drown. Between my still-adequate breast stroke and back stroke I know I can make it to one end and back again. Also, I hear they've invented these things called goggles that will help me not veer wildly across any lanes.

Plus: You get to pee in the lake. It's practically race-sanctioned behavior. If you don't do it, the fish will be disappointed. Now, Allison has not asked me to help her train for this particular part of her race but I want her to know that I am willing any time to go pee in the lake with her. Yes, we are that tight. Not to mention my kids will all want in on the action. (Which is a step up from the time my son peed on a PLASTIC tree in the middle of a packed amusement park because he didn't want to lose his place in line. Me? I pretended I didn't know him and strolled innocently in the other direction while grossed-out onlookers gasped "Where is his mother?!?!" In my defense, he'd already dropped trou and started peeing by the time I noticed his shenanigans so what was I to do? Cut him off midstream? Yeah, ok, that's not really a good defense.) Don't worry, I will not pee in the pool. I promise.

I've done a great job of convincing you that you want to do this one with us, haven't I? For those of you who want to play along at home, we will be doing this Fitness magazine aerobic/toning workout in the, ahem, leisure pool (doesn't that just scream pee??) at our Y every Monday. Wednesdays we will be swimming laps. To add a level of hilarity to our workout, the powers that be have decreed that only 1 lane is open for lap swimming every day. So all of us Gym Buddies will be sharing a lane (along with whatever regular we are horning in on). I see faces getting kicked. Lastly, we are going to go to a "Deep Water Power X" aerobic class that the girl at the front desk assured me is a real killer.

Who's in with me this month? Any of you done a tri? Any advice for all of us newbie swimmers? Any advice for Allison?

PS> Thanks to all of you who helped me decide what to wear for my big cover photo shoot! I ended up doing three different outfits - the pink jacket (with a white tank under & unzipped partially) combo, the blue v-neck tee and a green t-shirt that I bought that day in a fit of panic. The proofs all turned out WONDERFUL and I'll be posting some, along with more deets about the shoot shortly. I love you guys!!

Does Tough Love Motivate You (You Pansy)?!

She may look like an abusive boyfriend but really this is the face of love.

My cheeks hurt after my workout this morning. And yes, I know after all the discussion about Toilet Sore around here as of late you all are assuming my butt cheeks are sore. (Okay, they are. They still really really hurt from CrossFit's WOD two days ago. We had to do like 500 weighted overhead lunges!) This morning I tried out a new bootcamp class and left with my cheek-cheeks sore. As in I grinned so hard and so long that my face hurts!

Uncontrolled grinning and boot camp normally go together like Marilyn Manson and Mouseketeers:

Thank you Ben Heine for an image that will haunt me for days*.

When I think boot camp I envision screaming drill sergeants, G.I. Jane, Jillian Michaels. My instructor this morning must've missed that memo because he is the smiliest person I have ever met. He smiled introducing himself (normal), he grinned warming us up with side shuttles (slightly odd), he even beamed while talking us through a killer set of lunges (see butt sore-age above), push-ups and supermans (very strange). And I LOVED it!

The more he smiled, the more I smiled! I giggled doing butt kickers. I cheered doing bear crawls. I even cackled doing upright rows and I hate working my shoulders! Hate it!! By the time we finished class I felt as happy as when I discovered that they are making a Step Up 3 - in 3-D!! (Because nothing says Good Time like sitting around wearing dorky glasses watching the cool kids do things I can only dream about. Oh wait, that was my entire high school career.) Boot camp was good smiley fun.

It was not always this way. Back in Seattle I had an aerobics instructor - as in "Jazzercize, Jane Fonda called and she wants the '80's back" floor aerobics - who was as hard-nosed as they come. (Dearest L, you know exactly what is coming next.) Her classes were run like a tight ship. You did not walk in late. You did not leave your towel on the floor. You did not spill your water bottle. And you did not, under any circumstances, screw up the moves. (Which meant that you could not ever be new.) One errant hamstring curl while the rest of us were carioca-ing to the left earned you her pint-sized face in yours, screaming. She called people idiots. Losers. Stupid. She threw things, pushed people, stomped off in a huff. And even, on one memorable occasion, tripped someone on purpose and then yelled at them for falling. Injury, pregnancy, illness, stress - it didn't matter to her. There simply was no excuse for not performing at your 100% best.

The craziest part about all this? People loved her. And not just loved but absolutely adored! One woman brought her hot Starbucks coffee (it was Seattle) every morning. Others had followed her for 15 years from gym to gym to gym as she inevitably got fired from one place and moved on to the next. But the most telling sign was that all her classes were offered at 5:30 a.m. and they were packed. It was like living in an alternate universe where the head cheerleader goes on to be principal. And the principal has a fan club like Jerry Garcia.

I avoided her. I took her classes - with a new baby and no childcare at that gym the wee hours of the morning were the only time I had to workout and I'm a group fit girl at heart - but I did my best to stay pretty invisible. I hugged the side-middle of the room. I memorized her patterns so I wouldn't call attention to myself by messing up. I didn't arrive super early but I wasn't late either. I was respectful when I spoke to her but careful to never tell her anything personal. Didn't want her to have any ammo to use against me.

See, for me, negative attention like that doesn't motivate me. It never has. I don't do well with "tough love" and screaming has me in tears before it makes me push harder. I like my workouts to get my heart rate up but not from stressing out over being publicly chastised. I'll work 100 times harder for my smiley boot camp instructor than I ever would for her.

But everyone is not me. And that's ok! I call it the Jillian Michaels conundrum. Heck, she's made a very lucrative career out of screaming in people's faces until they cry and then sitting on them. Some people really seem to thrive with someone nailing their butt to the wall. They feel patronized by platitudes like "You can do it! You're strong and beautiful and awesome!! Yeah!!!" Others like me eat that stuff up like it's unicorn meat in sparkle gravy with a side of kittens and rainbows.

I believe there is a middle ground - the rare teacher who knows when you need a push and when you need a hug - but that sweet spot differs for everyone. What's your workout nirvana? Do you need some tough love to get your sweat on? Or do you prefer to be encouraged with You-Go-Girls? Anyone else lovelovelove dance movies regardless of how ridiculous the plot lines are??

PS> HUGE shout-out to reader Deb who came to my outdoor turbokick class tonight! Not living in California, I don't often get to meet other bloggers/readers (is it just me or are there a disproportionate number of health and fitness bloggers in Cali?) so it was a real treat to meet her! She even stuck it out through wind and rain! Thank you Deb!

*For a good time, google "things that don't go together." Hours of fun!!

The One Piece of Gym Equipment I've Never Tried

You'd think that I of all people would have tried every conceivable piece of gym equipment out there. And trust me, that's on my list of 100 things to do before I die. It falls somewhere after making a cheese souffle (which requires something called a "ramekin" which I totally don't have) and before figuring out who killed JFK (somebody did it, by golly). So it is with some embarrassment that I tell you that I only recently discovered the joy of the rowing machine.

Gym Buddy Allison and I were a little baffled when "rowing" showed up on our CrossFit WOD (workout of the day). It didn't say how heavy we were supposed to go or whether we were doing body rows, upright rows, bent over rows, single arm rows or frat rows. Which is odd for CrossFit since they usually spell it out for you to the letter, i.e. "deadlift 1.5 times your bodyweight." Seeing as I have a hard enough time deadlifting my toddler (although to be fair he's WIGGLY), I think somewhere CrossFit is having a good laugh at my expense.

Anyhow, after a minute or two it finally dawned us. They meant the row, row, row your boat kind of row. Allison and I stared suspiciously at the rowing machines, of which our Y has exactly two shoved back in a corner by the stretching mats. Finally we walked over and sat down on the slidey seats.
"How do they work?"

"Like I know."

"How do you change the resistance?"

"Can you?"

"What do those numbers mean?"

"It means we're slow."

"So go faster already!"

Why? Is someone chasing us?"

"Probably just some local fisherman, out for a pleasure cruise, at night... in... eel-infested waters... "

And then I looked over at Allison intently rowing her way across a fake lake to the island of Guilder and burst out laughing. Hilarity ensued. We raced. She "won." But only because I fell off my seat giggling. (Aw who am I kidding? She won outright, fair and square; that girl is crazy strong.) Then we tried synchronized rowing. With arm movements. I was about to "splash" her with the dregs from my water bottle but people on treadmills were staring. And I do have some sense of propriety. Somewhere.

It was fun!

After our CrossFit was done for the day (I still can't lift my arms over my head, thank you very much), we headed back over to canoe side-by-side across the still waters of our Cybex lake. Until we hit the rapids. And then I might've fallen off again. I can't believe it has taken me this long to try these things! It was awesome!

I don't know why but it never occurred to me to try it before. Maybe I thought it was just for old people - you know, like those bikes that you pedal with your hands. Or maybe it was just because I've never actually seen anyone on them before. Or maybe - shhh - I was secretly scared of a big ol' contraption that I had no idea how to use.

But no matter, Allison and I are going back tomorrow - to see if we can row fast enough to tow a skier. I'm going slalom. (Which is lucky for me since I cannot water ski for real. For some reason I missed that developmental milestone growing up.)

So what piece of gym equipment have you been avoiding? Do you like to row? Anyone else not know how to water ski? And, also, does anyone have a ramekin?

Remember Office rowing?? (click through to see video)