I left my gym membership behind, north on the I-5. I know as a card-carrying member of the mom-types, I am supposed to really dislike working out, but I do it anyway because it is socially what's expected of me, or some such nonsense, but I haven't felt that way in years.
(Except for the dang stairmaster. I am not a fan, and I only climbed those suckers because it's good for me, and I get uninterrupted bff time with Jen.)
I work out because it really does make me feel better and keeps me sane(r). End of story.
Gym-less, I decided I could save a few bucks, and start DVRing programs - I sound like my Grandma - to peruse at my leisure.
I've tried the Core Fusion routines, deceivingly easy looking but painful.
I've tried some Bollywood dance routines, and I've relied on one of my favoriteTV instructors for some yoga. (I would so befriend Sara Ivanhoe if she lived nearby and that's before I was friendless in a new town.)
Then I got daring, thought 'perhaps I should give some of this Brazil-y workout stuff a try' (profound stuff, I know) and I took on capoeira.
It started out easy enough, but soon I was tossing my head this way and that, and the snickering - THE SNICKERING - of the young offspring when I did the little half-assed cartwheel thing. It really was more than any of us could rightfully bear.
So I either need to cough up some cash or it's going to be a long, rainy autumn with Gilad, the only weightlighting class on TV I can tolerate.
On the bright side, gym deprivation may motivate to get my act together sooner, so I can start teaching Zumba again.
Because no one ever snickers at me about that. Heh.