Estellaleigh Franenberg is Have you ever had the experience of catching a glimpse of a long-lost friend out of the corner of your eye and thinking, “Oh look, there’s so-and-so!” You’re excited to see her – but then reason kicks in and you realize, “Yeah, that’s so-and-so if she hasn’t aged in the last 20 years.”
I had a like experience on the first day of BHIP training. Reflected in a pane of glass, lithe, energetic and athletic, I strode into the gym with a “get her done” attitude. A half hour into the 40,000-squat workout I turned into a middle-aged dame -- all boobs, belly and butt who would have yelled “Uncle!” if I could have caught my breath.
I recognize this is an amazing chance to make a positive change in my life, but I’m not going to lie: My thighs are protesting and I’m feeling frustrated, old and cranky. To confront sore muscles, limits tested and humiliating realizations for the next three months is a lot to ask of a gal who likes to get her sweat from the sauna. Hopefully, Reflection Girl is somewhere nearby. I’m going to need her. Read the complete post....
I dreamed my BHIP class was a low-budget horror movie with a cast of characters fighting to save the Earth from the evil forces of Bone Density Loss and Premature Aging invading from the planet of Sedentary Lifestylious. I played the irascible yet oddly lovable archetype who in the last knuckle-biting moments of the film realizes that she’s too slow to do the required sets of burpees, squats, and sprints up and down the Drake Stadium stairs before the 6:15 class starts. ...