and go

So, I was writing this post and then I wasn't and then I got all confused and didn't know what I was saying anymore except that it contained a surprising lack of expletives, a whole of self pitying whining and Molly Ringwald.

You can thank me now for erasing the lot of it.

But I will give you a synopsis:

When I was a child, I thought I was fat.

I wasn't.

When I was a teenager, I thought I was fat.

I wasn't.

When I was a young adult, I thought I was fat and making stupid decisions.

I wasn't and I was.

When I was a thirty something, I thought I was fit.

Wait a minute...

So close, but not quite.
Photo by Richard Lowes

While I no longer give a damn about being fat, I do care about being fit.  And I'm not quite at where I'd like to be.  Roller derby, my friends, only gets you so far.  When you first sign on derby can kick start your fitness (and your ability to survive high speed barrel rolls) but at some point you need some extra work to move to the next level.

I began... not fit.  Actually, I have some of my sordid journey through fresh meat here on this blog (check out the archives, though I warn you it's not pretty).  My body has changed, of course, but I haven't dropped a single pound through any of it.  Some parts are higher, some parts are harder.  I still have a good layer of crash padding around my muscle, though, so it's hard to tell.

Why one should never give up peanut butter and chocolate.
Photo by Richard Lowes.

However.  Through life's little bumps (and fucking craters), my own personal fitness line chart has reached a plateau as of late and I'm feeling somewhat embarrassed.  Particularly since I am putting together the fitness portion of our winter fresh meat program and it's becoming glaringly obvious to me that I may not be the best example.

Awkward. 

So, what to do?

Practice what I preach, probably.

Sigh.

Here's the thing.  It took me over thirty years to find a sport I like.  My previous sports experience was skate boarding when I was thirteen years old and bar hopping from fifteen to twenty five.  I get very bored and discouraged doing the things that make for good fitness.  If my brain can't get into it, it doesn't stick.  Derby is brilliant because there is no chance of getting bored.  It has the complicated strategy of war games, the senseless violence of video games, and the visual appeal of a burlesque show.  On wheels!

How in the world do you find fitness-making activities to compete with all of that?

Yep, push ups and planks during commerical breaks are good and should be done.  Running around the neighborhood with Sir Mix-A-Lot in my ear, s'okay.  But, really, if I'm going to do a bit of cross training to help me break my skills plateau and go up a level, it has to be soul enriching the way that derby is.  Because I'm a busy person with kids, an income to earn, a fresh meat program to plan and two freakin' blogs and I don't have time to climb pretend stairs at the gym.  If I'm going to climb stairs, they'd better take me someplace pretty damn awesome.   

Just give'r.
Photo by Richard Lowes

So, dear derby reader, time for you to talk to me.  I'm looking for some suggestions for happy fitness activities that are smart, inexpensive, entertaining, kid friendly, and do not chafe.  Bonus points for anything that won't break my leg and screw up my chance to hit me some jammer in October when we play the indelibly attractive Gas City Rollers.

What kind of side activity does a person who likes to hit other people (on wheels!) for fun do?