Subourbon Mom


No More Exercise Appointments
July 23, 2021, 7:00 am
Filed under: Exercise, Middle Age | Tags: , , , , , , ,

In our efforts to become more and more efficient with our time, exercise has become something we do to be healthy, look good and relieve stress. And the faster we can do that, the better.

So, hat’s off to all you exercise psychos who get up at 5:00am, be at the gym by six and showered and at your desk by eight.  You’ve knocked it out for the day and you’ll sleep better knowing your blood pressure is lower, your muscles are tired, and that eating the donut Kevin brought into work isn’t going to wreck your dietary world.

I used to be one of you. 

But, since the pandemic forced me to work from home, I’ve learned some unpleasant truths about myself: 

  • I won’t exercise at home unless it’s walking the dogs, and even then it’s really only because my apple watch talks to my health insurance and I get $1 for it.   
  • Watching exercise videos on YouTube is like watching TV – I’ll just turn it off when I don’t like what they’re doing. It’s a lot harder to do that when you have a trainer blocking the gym door against runners like me.
  • I need physical and mental separation from my work, which doesn’t happen for me, working from home. Compartmentalizing is not my thing. 

As soon as I could, I started going to a Pilates studio. I was too out of shape to go back to Orange Theory (no way was I going to go back to being a “Walker” – if you know, you know…).  I had injuries to heal, and I knew Pilates is good for strengthening your core. Since my “core” had expanded to include a lot of peripheral areas, that sounded perfect.

And it was, for a while. But just like with all the other exercises I’d tried, I got bored. It became an appointment I had to keep instead of being something I looked forward to.  Worse, I still couldn’t disconnect from work. I’d be doing stretches and making a “C—Curve” until my body shook, but I would still be thinking of all the things I had to do.

Finally, after a lot of bitching and a heart-to-heart with Daughter #1, who is now a personal trainer herself, I understood that I need to find an exercise that is something physical that I enjoy doing away from the house/work, but that also takes my complete attention.

Enter Daughter #2, who asked for the millionth time why I didn’t just start horseback riding again.

From the mouths of both my babes.

With horses, you must be present. They can read your emotions form the moment you enter the barn, and trust me, if you’re in a shitty mood, they’re going to be too.  And who can blame them?  Would you want someone sitting grumpily on your back, hands clenched, attached to the reins and the bit in your mouth?  When I’ve tried to ride Daughter #2’s horse like it’s a mission to accomplish, he simply refuses to walk out of the barn, and I don’t blame him.


From grooming to riding to walking them to their field, horses demand your complete attention. There’s no sneaking out when you’re done, like I used to do at Orange Theory, when the rowing part of the class was just the last straw. If you’re not paying attention with a horse, you’re either on the ground, chasing an escapee or simply stepping in a big pile of shit.

humor patience

So this fall, after Daughter #2 heads back to college, I’m going to start riding again in earnest. God help the poor horse that has put up with me flailing around until I’m strong enough to stay balanced (and on).

Now, I know riding isn’t for everybody – that’s not the point. The point is to make exercise something you want to do, not an appointment you have to keep. Go find your thing – hiking, canoeing, pickle ball, swimming, rock wall climbing, yard work, whatever it is that floats your exercise boat.  Just make sure it’s something where you have to be completely present – the rest will follow.  

   



The Fast & The Furious – “Stealing” Cars at Horse Shows
July 12, 2018, 6:00 pm
Filed under: Misc. Humor, Sports | Tags: , , , , , , ,

(Names have been changed to protect…well, you be the judge.)

Recently my friend Amy’s daughter Grace was taken to the hospital after a fall from her horse during a horse show.  Don’t worry – she’s fine. But what happened on the way to the hospital just shows that there’s humor even in frantic and scary situations.

As the EMTs were loading Grace into the ambulance, Amy called out to Grace’s boyfriend to take her car and follow the ambulance.  Eager to help, Dominic raced across the showgrounds, found the car and was soon trailing the ambulance on the highway.

Meanwhile, in the ambulance, a clearly concussed Grace keeps squinting out the back window. Noticing her daughter starting to strain to see through the rear window she asked, “What, honey?”

“I – I think that’s Dominic behind us,” Grace mumbled.

Amy looked out the back window and, sure enough, it was Dominic following them – but in the wrong car.   

amazingAmy tried in vain to get Dominic’s attention by waving her arms, making a “cut/stop” motion with her hand across her throat and mouthing that’s not my car! Dominic had no idea what she was doing – he was busy changing the preset radio stations from gospel to country and rock.

When they got to the hospital, Dominic rushed to Grace’s side.

“You ok, babe?” he asked.

Grace chuckled softly. “Uh-huh. But You’re a criminal.”

“What?” Dominic asked.

“You’re a criminal – that’s not my mom’s car.”

Amy added, “You have to go back to the show and get my car – it has my purse and ID in it!”

Because he’s a good boy, Dominic promptly freaked out.  He jumped into the borrowed car, drove back to the showgrounds and did what any red-blooded American would do – parked the car in the same spot and used his t-shirt to wipe the steering wheel, radio buttons and door handle for fingerprints. As far as we know, no one was the wiser for his mistake.

All this is funny by itself, and typical of my friends.  But here’s what I still makes me laugh:

  1. I still wonder what the owners of the “stolen” car thought when they got back in at the end of the day – the radio stations were different and the car seat was in a different position.
  2. What did the other drivers behind the ambulance think when they saw Amy waving and mouthing words from the back window of the ambulance? That she was a psych patient that needed more meds?  That the ambulance was secretly a rape van and she was being kidnapped? Or that she was celebrating because England beat Sweden in the World Cup?
  3. Grace and my daughter (D2) look out for each other at these events.  One time, Grace and Dominic raced to our house to get D2’s rescue inhaler while she sucked on oxygen at the end gate.  D2 has accompanied Grace to the hospital a couple of times now, and each time she takes a selfie. It’s what friends are for…keepin’ it real…

Jesse Selfie3



Just A Woman In A Box
May 8, 2013, 10:53 am
Filed under: Parenting, Sports | Tags: , , , , , , , ,

This weekend, Daughter #2 was in a horse show.  For those of you who aren’t barn parents, this means:

 

  1. Getting up at 5:00 AM, slurping down 2 cups of coffee and braiding your sleepy child’s hair in the semi-darkness of your kitchen while trying not to wake anybody else up;
  2. Standing around in a freezing barn as your child gets their horse ready and loaded onto a trailer, which is something akin to threading a needle with a sausage;
  3. Waiting for the endless number of riders to go around the ring, jumping over flowers, brightly painted poles and other assorted items horses would never jump if there wasn’t something small and annoying latched onto their back;
  4. Chewing your nails to the quick as you watch your child guide an 800-pound animal over jumps and around ten other 800-pound animals in every class—it’s scarier than driving up I-95 on Beach Saturdays;
  5. Watching and sharing in your child’s elation or defeat as the numbers of the top six entrants are called;
  6. Futile quizzing of the trainer to determine what the judges were looking for (the judges sit by themselves across the ring in a gazebo or behind closed glass, staring at the ponies like a police line-up). The sought-after qualities are usually lumped under the murky phrase “how the pony moves;”
  7. Trying to find a way to justify having a glass of wine or a shot of something by 10:00AM;
  8. No longer trying to justify, just consuming your lubrication of choice by 10:30AM;

 

At every show, Daughter #2’s trainer tells the girls she doesn’t care what ribbons they get as long as they ride their best; and, all the girls nod and smile and humor her, saying that’s exactly what they will do, and they know the ribbons don’t matter.

But to the girls, they do. Big, shiny ribbons they can pin on their ponies and hang around their room are like crack to a junkie.

And, invariably, by the middle of the morning at least one or two girls have ridden well, but somehow, they didn’t get a ribbon.  Despite reassurances that they did just fine, there are sometimes tears and disappointment.

This weekend, I overheard her trainer ask one of the riders, “Did you ride your best?” The girl nodded.  “Then who cares what that judge thinks? She’s just a woman in a box.”

If only we could all remember that.

We can’t control how people see us or judge us, so just do your best. All those people who make us feel small, useless or insignificant are just “a woman in a box.”




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