Working and Working Out

Long long ago, while in college, I had a part-time job working in a gymnastics gym. Part of the time I worked in the office, taking tuition and doing bookwork and the other part, I taught recreational gymnastics classes to kids ages 3 to 12. I had a ton of fun working there. It is still one of my favorite jobs to date.

On Friday nights, the gym would have makeup classes for kids that missed during the week. I would teach these make-up classes every Friday. I would always have two make-up classes back to back on Fridays, the first hour for the preschool/kindergartners and the second hour the older kids. Sometimes, I wouldn't have anyone the first hour. One particular Friday, I didn't have any kids the first hour and decided to mess around in the gym for a while. Aside from basic gymnastics and teaching the younger kids, I hadn't done anything that required a lot of skill and/or muscle tone.

There sat the parallel bars. I thought, "I'm going to do a pull-over." The bars were set really low for the recreational kids, so when I would get up there to demonstrate, I would just have to jump up there, using my arms, like getting out of a pool from the side. When I got it in my mind to do a pull-over, I really had myself convinced that I could do it because the bars were lower. There would hardly be any upper arm strength to it, if I executed it correctly. I pulled my chest and chin to the bar and swung my legs up in the air to get around the bar. There was one problem. The last time I had done a pull-over, I was ten years younger and about 40 pounds lighter.

I recall seeing my feet in the glare of the lights and as they seemed to hang out up there, my arms realize that they cannot bear the weight of my lower limbs and hips. My arms go completely straight and with the strain of my entire body on my arms, my hands let go, slamming me down to the mats below. Yes, it did. I came crashing down and even knocked the wind out of me. Once I could breathe again, I couldn't help but laugh at myself. Nope, I didn't get back on that horse and try again, I moved onto the tramp track.

Tramp track. Harmless, right? I mean, how in the world can anyone injure themselves on a piece of equipment that is flexible and forgiving? I start off just jumping down the track in different fashions. I then move onto cartwheels, front handsprings and walkovers. I'm feeling like a rock star, a gymnastics rock star. I decide to go for it, the front tuck. Remember those weighty hips and limbs I talked about earlier? Well, I apparently didn't learn my lesson. I go for it, I have great speed, I jump, but you see, those damn hips and legs didn't quite make it around and I land on my butt. You're probably thinking, "you were on a trampoline, how could that be THAT bad?" Well, let me tell you. Where I landed happened to be where one of the support bars was located. My butt fat divided upon impact and allowed my ass bones to take the heat.

This was the point where I laid there gazing into those bright lights that I had minutes before watched my feet in and I just let myself feel the throbbing coming from my back and butt. I let it radiate through my body before I picked myself up and walked back to the office to await the second hour of make-ups.

Why did I tell you this story? I'm not quite sure. Probably because it could only happen to me. Maybe because I keep putting myself out there doing ridiculous things to myself and trying ridiculous things just because. I'm not afraid to try anything, really. My friends and I have been trying to get together to go to one of those stripper pole classes. I will most definitely injure myself there, but I've got to give it a try Carmen Electra style!!!!

Signing off for now, to all of you near and far and to those of you who put yourselves out there everyday, until next time...