Those of you who know me know that I am not even remotely what anyone would call an athlete. I am not tall, or slim, or strong, or fit. I am a well-upholstered, deconditioned, middle-aged woman who spends the better part of every day sitting at a desk in front of a computer and walks her small dogs several times a week for moderate distances (two miles or less, usually much less).
However, I am pleased to report that all is not lost for me on the physical front. I have been absent from the gym for several months now for various reasons, but since I’ve turned over all those new leaves, I’ve been back to it this week. Three times this week, in fact.
Today I decided to add a few exercises to my lower-body workout, including kettle bell swings and box jumps. I’ve never done box jumps in my life, but today seemed like as good a day as any to start. I chose the smallest box of the set they have for just this purpose, which is about 15 inches tall.
Considering that I am blessed with all that abundant upholstery in addition to knock knees, poor balance, and nearly no mind-body coordination to speak of, I was not sure I would be able to, first of all, accelerate my bodacious bulk upward 15 vertical inches even once, and second, land both feet squarely on the top of the box at the same time without falling over. But I did. I jumped up on that thing thirty (30) times consecutively without falling once. W00t!
So I’m just going to take the rest of the day off and feel proud of myself … at least until the DOMS kicks in.