I have very ambitious Life Goals at times, Reader. I realize you may find that hard to believe, considering my propensity for excessive naps with cats, yet I do think a lot about trying new, adventurous things.
Two weeks ago, I sent MM this video, and asked him, “Hey, they are holding classes for this just down the street from our house. It’s as if the Universe is begging me to try it. What do you think my chances are of being able to do this?”
I need an outsiders opinion, because in my mind’s eye, I’m capable of doing a lot of stuff like this:
So it’s not that I seek out a dream-dasher, but rather that I NEED someone to help me define the real me and not the fantasy me. Otherwise I could break a hip. A hip-hop-hip-hip-hippity-hop. I could break all those things if I’m not playing with a realistic deck of cards.
I mean, no jokies, my NECK has been stiff on the left side, complete with an ouchy pain every time I move, for several weeks now, most probably from SLEEPING. On my hundred dollar pillow, on my super-comfy king-sized bed with nice sheets and soft blankets. Because that can be so dangerously painful and tricky to get it right, so it’s really no surprise my neck is stiff and ouchy.
Two seconds after I’d sent that video, my phone rang.
MM: “No. Nope. No way.”
TBB: “Well, did you watch the video?? Aren’t you being a little hasty??”
MM: “Did you happen to notice every girl in that video is under the age of 30?? Not one 50-something in that video at. all.”
TBB: “Hm, I hadn’t noticed that at all. A little rude on their part, don’t-cha-think? Do you think that means something??”
MM: “Do you remember that time, several years ago, when you dragged me out in a snowstorm because you had to have the mini trampoline, it was going to revolutionize your workout?”
*let’s be clear, by “revolutionizing” my workout we mean, “maybe working out a little bit on occasion.”
TBB: “Yeah, but….I mean, that was dangerous!”
MM: “You took two hops, almost fell into the television, and had me move it to the basement, where it’s sat untouched for going on three years now.”
TBB: “I guess you’re right, I was a little precarious on that. So what I’m hearing is, I need to try that again, and once I master that, then I should explore the jumping boots.”
MM: “Nope, I’m not saying that at all. I’m saying just move on from the whole idea of the jumping boots. You’re good at tv. Do more of that. Or maybe an occasional walk if you must.”
So for the past week I’ve been getting up a little earlier in the morning and making my way to the basement in my bra & undies, and I hang on my inversion table for a spell, to put a little space between my vertebrae and kick out this hip pain I have and also possibly gain the two inches the doctors office seems to think I’ve lost and then I step right up onto the mini trampoline and get some jumps in to start the day. I have worked up to three whole minutes, complete with continuous jumping jacks which lemme tell you, feels like a heart attack is just around the corner.
MM was correct on one point. I am not ready for jumping boots. Yet, Reader.
Yesterday, while driving around I casually mentioned to MM, “I made it the whole week with some jumps on the trampoline, I’m going to be ready for the kangaroo boots by spring.”
MM, with a heavy sigh, “So you’ve still got your sights set on those jumping boots….”
Because he knows what you don’t know, Reader.
He’s going to be the someone who has to pick up the pieces if I ever do try the jumping boots. And those pieces will most likely be in the form of some sort of broken bones.
Don’t confuse being negative with being realistic, Reader. Sometimes someone else needs to point out your limits for you. For two years in a row I’ve had some sort of foot issue that has required surgery and doctors appointments and surprised comments from said doctors about the amount of arthritis and lack of cushion in my joints, which is exactly the reason that jumping boots are the perfect workout for me. Full circle.
If I’ve learned nothing else from watching the Olympics this week, it’s something about the word “can’t.”
2 thoughts on “She Asks How High”
Well forget the jumping skis it all looks good in your mind but I would start out with a pair of high heels. If you can master walking around in them for a couple of hours, up & down the stairs then try roller skates in the house. This should curb your brain farts.
yeah, there is no way I can walk in high heels with these ankles and knees! But I’m still thinking maybe, just maybe, on the jumping boots. Eternal optimist 🙂
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