The Hunt for Red October

Hi friends,

So sorry, dear readers, for the break in posting as my brain has been numbed by the summer heat. Today I was outside trimming dead palm fronds, pulling weeds, and general yard clean-up, with sweat running down my face and off my head. People, it’s September 28th! The Milwaukee temperature at three pm? Sixty-seven degrees. Here in Safety Harbor? Eighty-seven degrees. It’s finally starting to cool down from our summer temperatures in the very high nineties. Yay, fall.

I love a northern autumn and October is my favorite month of the year. The gradual change in the temperature, the crisp low 60’s/high 50’s, wearing layers, a trip to the farm for fall vegies, caramel apples, and hayrides. Halloween and pumpkin carving! Most spectacularly, the leaves changing from green to vibrant yellows, oranges, and reds. It’s a feast for the eyes. It’s a celebration of a summer enjoyed and a herald of the holiday season to come. (We won’t discuss January through April right now). 

The leaves don’t change color in Florida. Based on my limited research it has to do with the level of chlorophyll, the amount of rain and the temperature, blah, blah, blah. I’m no botanist, so, please hit the google if you want more details. From my five years of observation here in Florida, it goes like this – green, brown, down – right into the pool. I don’t even have the joy of raking up a good pile of crunchy leaves, instead I have a “pool rake” that I use daily once the actual leaf fall begins…in January. 

I’ll pull out my October decorations. Colored leafy items, Halloween themed wall hangings, my skeleton and pumpkin candle holders. I’ll celebrate fall with sweat on my brow and leave my sweaters in the closet. I’ll look at all the posts of turning leaves on social media. I’ll stand under the A/C vent and feel the crisp seventy-eight-degree air. I’ll eat some apples with caramel sauce, but I won’t carve a pumpkin because it will rot in days. I will fake it in the south this year, and maybe next year I’ll make it north for a real red October.

Much love,

Paula

 

Gladiator

Hi friends,

My introduction to true exercise happened when I was 51. Prior to that I dabbled with tennis, the occasional painful jog and chasing kids around a playground. The idea of actually “working out” was anathema to me. It was painful and sometimes caused me to sweat. It began when Dan and I tried a resort dive in Mexico. Introduced to SCUBA I was determined to pursue a certification. Swim lessons with a trainer led to weight training, cardio training, spinning, 5k runs, several triathlons and a habit of hitting the gym 5 days a week. The gym Dan and I belonged to was awesome, the best equipment kept in fabulous shape. The spin room had 6 fans that kept the air moving. It was a great environment for a workout.

When we moved to Florida we looked around for gym options. They certainly did not meet the Wisconsin standard. There was the City of Largo fitness center, very affordable with limited equipment, and minimal access to a personal trainer. I thrive best with external accountability. When we moved to Safety Harbor we joined the Safety Harbor Resort and Spa. This got us access to the pools, weight room, cardio room and all the classes. Most often we were the youngest members there, lulled into slow motion activity by the comforting spa music best suited to a massage or facial. 

My employer opened an on-site fitness center and provided personal training. Thirty-minute sessions once per week busted my butt. I got a lot out of it, but then my job was eliminated. We tried a membership with Anytime Fitness. Then, on a Saturday in October, I was perusing vendors at the Fall Music Festival. There was an ice cream vendor I wanted to try, Hawaiian Honey Cones. It’s a U-shaped cookie tube filled with ice cream. Dan was volunteering as the festival’s ice delivery man, so I could indulge guilt-free.

As I meandered down the street I was approached by this very fit young woman who asked the question, “what do you do for exercise?” I swallowed my mouthful of deliciousness and said, we belong to a gym. She proceeded to tell me about a group fitness program that would shake things up and really get me moving. I listened, then replied that I’d have to discuss it with my husband (who I was sure would say no) – I’d stop back later. When I saw him later he said it sounded great and we should give it a trial run – 4 weeks, minimal cost. WHAAAAT!

I am now a gladiator. A member of Camp Gladiator that is. We meet with a friendly group of people in a church parking lot (hot black asphalt). We roll out our mats and sweat for the next hour. We work hard. We revel in the occasional breeze. There is no air-conditioning, this is an all-weather work-out. Funny enough, it’s almost harder to work out during the cooler months than the “feels like 150 degree” heat of a humid Florida evening.

We start with

• 10 inch worms
• 10 hip bridges
• 10 sit-ups or crunches

Then a lap of varying distances (shoot me now). 

Now we are ready for the “warm-up”, a series of exercise combinations that take us to a 20-minute mark. “Give me 30 hard count high knees, 20 shoulder taps, then 10 squats and keep doing that until I call time. Now give me …” 

On to the 40-minute exercise portion of the program which is always different and always a challenge. Depending on the theme of the week, the intensity with which I (temporarily) despise the trainer varies. And never ask me about “fight club”; we are not allowed to discuss that. 

So, lessons learned? It’s never too late to start. Exercise friends are great friends. I can do more than I think I can. Hydrate. I won’t melt in the heat; it just feels like it. Find it, do it. And best of all, I can walk away knowing I beat the lion in the coliseum.

Stay safe and healthy. Much love,

Paula