working out with mom. Before I was born she would smuggle me into the fitness center.
our hardest workout together. What started as an easy walk around the maternity floor--throwing in some lunges and squats--became more difficult as the night went on. It left us both exhausted and crying. The exercise-induced endorphins were awesome though.
Maybe I slept through most of them. Maybe the dog wouldn't let me out of her sight.
Early on I couldn't go to the gym because I was too little. Then mom was too sleep deprived to remember to make an appointment in the infant room. So I hung out with dad.
Tethered together like this, we got in lots of walking workouts. We were also the family's cheer team that first summer, watching as they competed and crossed finish lines. We were patient (as only mastitis can make necessary). Our turn would come.
Life changed when we got our Bob Revolution Stroller. Whether running sprints to the post office (hurry, before the bus!) or a leisurely jog through the arboretum, mom's been a reliable training partner.
As I grew and got stronger, she got stronger. At every opportunity, I was the workout.
The following summer, after all that training mom got back to crossing finish lines. I cheered her on.
Then, like a baby bird I got tossed out of the nest. I wasn't sure I could fly.
We experimented with snowshoes that winter. Awesome.
Mom says finding opportunities to workout with kids is also an exercise in creativity and persistence.
And like we do whenever the weather allows, we "play out" a lot. If you're ever at a park never allow your mom or dad to sit on a bench and watch. Make them move, too.
That fall they threw me out of the nest again. I'm definitely growing up active, but racing is for the birds.
Now that I'm three, my fitness world is expanding: swimming lessons, soccer, riding my bike. So much to do. Mom still makes a pretty good training partner. She says she always will.