I was clueless a few months ago when my son, Chris, asked me if I wanted to ruck. He and his family were quarantining with us at the lake during the early days of COVID-19 and he had decided to take advantage of his new work-from-home arrangement to adopt a healthier lifestyle. He was starting to see results from his improved diet and wanted to focus more on his workouts. That’s where this rucking idea surfaced.
Chris explained that rucking was a cardio workout with military roots: you simply load up a backpack (aka rucksack) with weight and walk. Continue reading “Wanna Ruck?”
From the beginning, I was adamant that fishing was not my thing. Despite repeated attempts by my six-year-old grandson to entice me to join in his new passion, I was steadfast in my refusal to even pick up a rod. I’m sure Caleb thought it odd, since I’d always been such a willing sidekick to every adventure he cooked up; all he had to do was mention it, and I was game. But not this time; not fishing. I encouraged him to seek involvement from others, as I was sitting this one out. 
My skepticism kicked in as soon as I heard Beachbody’s latest super trainer, Chris Downing, promise I’d get leaner, faster and stronger in three weeks. But as he rambled through his spiel, his enthusiasm seemed refreshingly genuine and once he flashed that infectious smile my resistance softened. I was in. Now that I’ve finished Shift Shop, I’ll admit this trainer and his breakthrough “ramp-up” method was worth my time. I say that even though my performance tanked on day fifteen, of the 21-day program. Reflecting on my experience objectively, I can see the problem wasn’t so much with the program, at least not technically; it was that this old lady simply needed a longer ramp. 
We fell in love with our adorable little fur ball the moment we met him last October. That’s the thing about puppies, they’re so damn cute they hook you before you remember the upheaval a baby of any species causes to your life. But by the time we drove the twelve hours from Erie, PA to Knoxville with the little guy, it was coming back to me. Still, I wasn’t too worried because my husband, Tim, had always taken the lead with our dogs. I did kids, he did dogs. That was the deal with the first pup, and I never saw a reason to change it. 
This trip was years in the making and like most weekend jaunts, just as we picked up the pulse of the city it was over. But then I never have enough time in New York City. Fortunately for my daughter, Stephanie, it was everything she had dreamed it would be and since this getaway had one specific purpose – to celebrate her thirtieth birthday – having it live up to her expectations was all that mattered. 
“You give me the next three weeks, and I’ll give you the body you’ve always wanted,” promises the twig of a fitness instructor leading the upper body workout I’m streaming this morning. In sixty-one years, I’ve never had the body I’ve always wanted, so I have serious doubts anything this video Barbie is going to throw at me in the next 21 days will get me there. 
I did not invite Down syndrome into my life; it crashed my party. In that devastating moment when my hopes and dreams for my newborn daughter were ripped away, I couldn’t imagine anything could be worse. Fast forward thirty years, and hindsight, as it often does, has replaced the pain and fear I felt in those early days after Stephanie was born with appreciation for an amazing journey that with all its challenges and flaws has made us a stronger family and me a better person.
One of our local morning shows ran a segment providing tips for a fulfilling retirement. The life coach being interviewed gave the advice touted in hundreds of magazine articles and books; much of it centering around the familiar stopping to smell the roses and finding new purpose sort of themes. Having just spent a couple of days with my grandson, Caleb, it struck me that quite possibly the best role models for making the most of our senior years are young children.