Having baby: The 'Ultimate Cross-training Challenge'

Willow loves to tag along for bike rides. The skinny guy in front of her plans on taking at least 10 of them in May.

I've set my fitness goals for May.

Walk more than 30 miles.
Run more than 16 miles.
Bike more than 20 miles.

Those are the easy, but sometimes boring, ones.

These are much, much more fun on the old body:

Push a swing more than 1,500 times.
Guide a baby down a slide more than 50 times.
Push a stroller more than 40 miles.

And these unavoidable fitness "goals" are much, much harder on the old body:

Chase a walking baby more miles than I care to calculate.
Change more than 150 diapers.
Change more than 50 sets of clothes.
Wash about 35 loads of laundry.
Wash about 25 loads of dishes.

And on and on.

This, friends, is what I call the "Ultimate Cross-training Challenge," and I'm about to face the gauntlet this month.

Wish me luck.

Comments

Adding a splash to the winter gray

Willow, Mommy and I went to the Y's pool on Sunday to take advantage of our membership and to do something summery in this dreary and cold weather. We had so much fun swimming and splashing, Willow and I went back on Tuesday. On Sunday, surprisingly, nobody else was at the pool, and the lifeguard seemed resigned to having to sit boringly in her stand. I have no problem with having an entire pool and a lifeguard all to myself, but, again, I was surprised nobody else was there, except for a few exercisers coming and going to use the steam room and the sauna (and a couple of guys hopped in the whirlpool for a few minutes). When Willow and I went on Tuesday, several people were in the pool, but they quickly scattered when the tot and I entered the pool. Maybe their time in the pool had come to a planned end. Maybe they didn't want to be in the water with someone who might pee or poop at any moment. After the initial scattering a couple of men came into the pool area and swam qui...

Among chaos, peace

I want to show you two pictures, but a little later. First I want to introduce you to chaos (or at least what I consider to be chaos) via a handy, dandy list: I am sitting at a laptop, pounding out a blog's letters as quickly as I can think of them. The laptop is only three months old, yet some of the keys stick sometimes. These sticky keys are the ghostly reminders that a toddler's sticky fingers have been pounding on them. Four loads of laundry lie in various states of "unfinish." One load is wet. One load is wrinkling. Two loads await their spins. A fifth load already has been tucked away in drawers, cabinets and closets (then untucked by a toddler then tucked again by me). Cups, plates and bowls hang for dear life to a hastily stacked pile of dirty dishes in the sink while a clean set of dishes sits in the dishwasher. A pile of pictures and postcards blanket the floor beside the desk in the guest room. This was the work of the sticky fingers that pounded on...

Willow's sliding frenzy

Last week, Willow took a huge step in her quest to become a big girl (she's abiding by her plans, not Mommy's and Daddy's, who want her to stay a baby forever). Willow and I went to the playground for a morning of play and a picnic. Willow's idea of "a morning of play" is usually spending A LOT of time on the swing. Up to last week, if she wanted out of the swing, it was to walk over to another, better swing. Then back again. Last week, things changed. I put Willow at the top of a tot slide and started cheering her to let loose. I readied to keep her from tumbling off the bottom of the slide. She let loose, scooted down the slide and stopped just short of the edge. She shimmied off, smiling and took off after the steps to go back up. She clamored to the top of the slide (this set of slides had one "top" with the option of going down three slides: a straight one, a curvy one and a tunnel one). Willow reached the top, sat down, scooted her bottom t...

Daddy Tree: Tiny Footsteps

Search This Blog