Give me ghetto butt.
I look to the side in the mirror eyeing my dancer’s straight line, and I try to self-correct. It’s counter-intuitive for me to push myself out of top-down alignment, but we are not doing pliés in a ballet studio. We are doing arm curls at Junior’s and the right posture requires a slight sit into pushed-out glutes. Or, as Chris more pictorially describes it, ghetto butt.
More, Chris says, so I give it what I got (which let’s face it, isn’t much, and that’s one of the reasons why I am here). Thankfully it’s enough. Good, he says. Now elbows in. You are going to go all the way down to your thighs and your gonna come back up with straight wrists, no bending, all right? Straight, all the way up. All I need is eight. Continue reading “Month Six: Planking, Pull-ups, Push-ups & Shakespeare”
Today, I am full of trepidation. As much as I am aching to work out, I am still injured and have great doubts about what I should be doing. For sure my sciatic nerve is pinched and this gives me the kind of sharp, reprimanding pain that presents itself without warning as my body changes position. The irony is that I have discovered that I can do all kinds of challenging stretches to a degree, but then basic efforts like sitting in the car even for short distances is so painful that I want to put my left leg anywhere but on the floor.
So why I am going to a strength training session? Maybe optimism. Maybe because I am stubborn. And also, I suspect that the rest of my body doesn’t want to get left behind just because another part of it is lagging. Surely the answer can’t be to do nothing. Continue reading “Starting Month 6: “It’s time to pull off the training wheels.””