Jumping

I finally did it. After weeks, if not months, of having "Big 5" on my to-do list, I finally made the trek last night to Glendale to purchase what I'm planning on making my new work-out contraption: a mini trampoline. I got the big idea for this after jumping on a friends large trampoline at a BBQ for a mere ten minutes, and the wonderful soreness in my legs the following day.

I've never really been one for "working out"...at least not in the typical sense. There was a period of about two years during my adolescence during which I was absolutely batty about running. My mom and I would complete a 5k run about once a month, and were constantly preparing for them by running around the little lake in my neighborhood in the evenings. My foray with rebellion that followed, and the related wedge that it drove between my mother and I, made short work of that, though. There were also a good five years of playing soccer during my childhood, but I suspect that I played the sport more to get out my aggression than because I was actually good at it.*

*remind me to tell you the story of me punching a girl during one "good game" high five.

Moving on...since I moved back to Los Angeles a little over a year ago, I've done pathetically little to maintain my figure, aside from the not-eating depression-bout I dealt with in the first few months back, and about a dozen yoga classes, which I swore I would keep up with...and didn't. I'm not counting the half dozen or so walks around the reservoir I took with Alie, cause I only did those so we'd have a chance to talk shit together, and I barely broke a sweat.

Truthfully, I really don't enjoy running anymore...and walking never makes me feel like I'm actually accomplishing anything. I adore yoga, but I have a hard time making a commitment to go every couple days, and with getting dressed, driving to the yoga studio, parking, paying, and then driving home after class and showering, I end up having used up about two hours.

Which brings us to last night. After almost getting in an accident with a stupid woman in an SUV, followed by her tailing me to the Big 5 parking lot and her and I having heated a argument, then finally buying my precious trampoline, and an unsuccessful H&M excursion, I came home and stood on my trampoline for the first time.

I stood in front of my full length mirror, trepidaciously jumping a couple times to see what this thing was all about. I had only planned on trying it out for a minute or two, as I was scheduled to meet Alie for dinner, but a half hour later I was stripped down and sweaty, doing intricate jumping patterns and moving my arms in wild arches with every leap. Elvis watched me from the bed, eyeing the trampoline reproachfully. With fifty crunches both during and after my jumping session (crunches on the trampoline are soooo much better than on the floor), I felt really great about my new purchase.

My goal is to jump for at least twenty five minutes for the next week, followed by twenty minutes every couple days. Umm, also? If there's anything that will make you want to jump on the trampoline on a regular basis, it's watching yourself jump on a trampoline. Lets just say that every part of my body moved and jiggled with wild abandon except for my boobs, which stayed stubbornly and defiantly still, mocking me with their smallness. But still, that didn't stop me from devouring a breakfast quesadilla with soyrizo and avocado later that night at Brite Spot.