Beth Bloom

 

My freshman year of high school, I was assigned P.E. as my first class of the day — aptly named zero period. Zero period P.E. meant that immediately upon arriving to school, I changed from my carefully chosen outfit into the image-killing maroon biker shorts and golden yellow t-shirt that made up our P.E. uniform. It also meant the sure ruin of the 20 minutes of work I put into perfecting the wave in my bangs. And there were no showers for cleaning up after the class. So the image I presented of myself that entire school year was that of a sweaty, flattened freshman. I loathed P.E.

 

Flash-forward 19 years: It dawns on me that the Bruin Health Improvement Program (BHIP) is essentially P.E. for UCLA staff and faculty. But this time, I can't wait to get started, because it's on my terms and my 6:15 p.m. time slot makes it the last class of my day.

 

Day 1: Not hitting the wall .... Read the complete post.

Death by orange chicken   A rainy Los Angeles evening moved BHIP Day 6 from Drake Stadium to the dry courts of Pauley Pavilion. The workout of the day — Death by 10 Meters — was somewhat like a basketball conditioning drill.... As each minute passed, the number of laps increased, requiring more and more speed to fit them all in.

While the NCAA championship banners at Pauley, signifying Bruin victories overhead, provided some inspiration ... my late-in-the-day lunch held its ground in my stomach and worked its might to be the center of my attention.  Never again (or, at least, not until I forget the misery it caused) will I indulge in a rich meal before a workout. Every step I took, the orange chicken was there holding me back as if weighted to my foot like a ball and chain. It infiltrated my warm-up push-ups — “one orange chicken, two orange chicken” — and my lap count — “three orange chicken, four orange chicken.” Read the complete post here.

 

Back at Drake, the Workout of the Day was alternating a body row exercise with a run around the track. Run, row, run, row and so on for 20 minutes. We’d done both activities before, so I was familiar with the technique. However one part of the instructions threw me for a loop: We should run one lap and then hit the rings to do “as many rows as you can,” then run another lap and head back to the rings do rows “until you cannot do another row” and so on for 20 minutes.

 

As many as you can? ... I’m not great with limits ... One lap run and 500 rows in 20 minutes?! Read the complete post here.

 

Grunts, bouncing balls, pounding hearts, stomping feet, clapping hands, encouraging words, spinning jump ropes, bullhorn sirens, and that one random guy who used our workout space to take a call on his cell phone: the soundtrack to the first two weeks of BHIP. On the twelfth day came music. And it made all the difference. Read the complete post here.

 

This day brought our second nutrition class. We learned about nutrition guidelines and the dreaded serving size. I’ve learned this lesson before, but it’s so much easier to forget that serving sizes are smaller than what I’d like them to be. Reality bites.

 

I’m a foodie in every way. I cook most of my meals and started methodically working my way through cookbooks before Julie ever discovered Julia. I’m a trained baker. I menu plan. I host dinner parties. A really fun night out for me involves grocery shopping. I read food magazines. I listen to food podcasts. I love exploring new restaurants and plan personal culinary adventures when I travel. And, most often of all, I eat. A lot. Read Beth's complete post here.

 

For as long as I (and others who know me) can recall, I’ve hated running. One of my aunt’s favorite memories of my childhood is grabbing my five-year-old hand to run through part of the Disneyland theme park. “Sometimes it’s fun to run,” she coaxed me. “Well, sometimes it’s fun to walk,” I replied. ... Read Beth's complete post here.

 

I’d like to sweat more. It seems so healthy and cleansing. Other people sweat. ... It started with the sight of a teammate’s face glistening with sweat, then my gaze shifted to the wet apparatus that would soon be mine. ... I’m cool. I’m with it. I eat food that I’ve dropped on the ground. I can handle other people’s sweat, no problem. So I thought, until I was confronted with the real challenge. ... Read Beth's complete post here.