- Cape student sues, accuses school officials of slamming her to ground multiple times (04/28/16)46
- Bob Evans restaurant in Cape Girardeau among chain's 21 closings (04/26/16)9
- Missouri House votes to allow concealed weapons without permits (04/28/16)8
- Police report filed, but no charges in incident at Cape Central (04/29/16)39
- Two hurt in motorcycle wreck on Interstate 55 (04/25/16)1
- Senator introduces bill for I-57 that would connect Sikeston with Little Rock (04/28/16)4
- Law firm requests information about Cape's traffic cameras (04/25/16)2
- Local lawmakers split over failed medical marijuana bill; voters may have a say (04/26/16)19
- Local company makes eco-friendly kitty litter that cuts cat-box smell (04/25/16)
- Man accused of pointing BB gun at Chaffee resident (04/26/16)2
Fit to Print team updates 7/18/02
SHAPE UP CAPE
Point totals for the week of July 8
The Fit for Print team earned 859 points for a team average of 85.9 per person.
* St. Andrew's Fit for Eternity: 884, Average per person: 88.4
* Cape Girardeau Public Library's Bookin' Team: 307, Average per person: 43.8
FIT TO PRINT
Sam Blackwell 118
Andrea Buchanan 93
Spencer Cramer 85
Heidi Hall 72
Jamie Hall 95
Gabe Hartwig 85
Laura Johnston 78
Heather Kronmueller 86
Bob Miller 73
Joe Sullivan 74
Average per person 85.9
Can you feel nostalgic about a time and place that never belonged to you?
I've been daydreaming in black and white these days, with my latest physical fitness fantasy involving me in a ball gown and strappy shoes, twirling with Fred Astaire.
Of course in the fantasy, each of my legs would be about a yard longer than they are, my skin would be clear and I would be flexible, but that's what fantasies are for.
Anyway, my latest idea is to have a virtual dance instruction program that would allow me to tap and whirl with any partner I choose.
A virtual dance program would allow shy people like me to indulge their longing to perform without embarrassing them or inflicting undue pain on others. Of course it would be adjustable so I could just as easily moonwalk my way through an old Michael Jackson video or groove with Destiny's Child as join Fred in "Top Hat."
And who knows? All that practice with a virtual dance program might be just what I need to get me onto a real dance floor.
But I think we're safe for now.
I credit the icky, eerie, male-bonding-intense yap-show called "The Other Half" for awakening some common sense in me (Jerry Springer has also helped with that, but that's a more pitiful story reserved for a barroom).
According to an irritatingly fit New York guest dude hamming it up with host Dick Clark and pals on the show Wednesday, I realized it's not my exercise routine that's keeping the Incredible Amazing Abs of Steel just out of reach, but rather it's my diet. In a nutshell (or a bread bowl, in this case): I eat too much starch and get too many carbs.
I eat bread like it's the last supper. Take me to Fazoli's and I'll pile as many free breadsticks down my gullet as they'll give me. I salivate when I see Breadstick Lady headed my way with a basket of breadsticks.
So here's the deal. Keep chugging along with the workout (run three days a week, lift weights three days a week, 100 crunches every day) and ease up on the bread and baked potatoes.
Meanwhile, I need to keep telling myself how satisfying a flat, well-toned stomach will be someday -- maybe even more than a hot, buttery breadstick.
I think my scale is defective.
After a the first couple of weeks of working out for Shape Up Cape, and drinking what seemed like 50 gallons of water a day, I climbed on my scale to find I had lost five pounds.
I did the dance of joy until I nearly knocked myself out slipping on a pair of dirty socks and plummeting to the floor with my arms and legs flailing, hitting everything from the doorknob to the toilet on the way down.
That was traumatizing, but what's worse is the fact that now, several weeks, workouts and water bottles later, it says the same exact thing!
I know I must be losing weight because some old clothes, like a pair of shorts that only three weeks ago wouldn't zip, now fit.
I see two possible explanations for the scale: Either A: I'm secretly losing fat but gaining muscle, which weighs more, or B: I knocked the scale out of whack when I landed on it after the dance of joy.
I hope it's A.
The honeymoon stage of Shape Up Cape has ended for me.
For a while, I would arrange my workouts for the sake of the contest, for the good of the team.
I'm still working out, mind you. Last week, I probably put in more hours of physical activity than I have in a long time, but it just didn't show in my points.
For example, last week I lifted weights for a total of 4 1/2 hours. I played softball for another three hours. That's 7 1/2 hours of activity for only six points (which, by the way, is equal to a 20-minute walk).
For my cardio I continue to run, but I haven't been pushing myself too much. I've been trying new things like the Stairmaster and racquetball as an alternative to the summer's heat and my boredom with the treadmill.
Blame it on allergy season, the hills, burnout.
But don't blame my decreasing physical activity on me.
I'm up at 4:45 every morning. That's a.m., folks.
I put on scruffy running shoes. I go outside to greet the pre-dawn darkness.
Then it happens.
I start wheezing and hacking. By the time I reach the first corner and look up that long hill, my brain chemistry starts sending strong messages. Such as:
Nobody's forcing you to do this.
You could be having coffee right now.
If God had intended for you to run uphill, he wouldn't have invented air conditioning.
Sometimes I overcome my rationalization. Sometimes I don't.
I recently saw photos of a healthy heart and a ready-to-kick-the-bucket heart. I had to decide which photo looked like my heart.
I'll be up at 4:45 tomorrow morning. That's a.m., folks.