My Extreme Body Workout ... by C.L. Beck

This is a paid -- albeit, humorous -- article sponsored by Fitness Alliance.


I am a big believer in exercise and fitness.

All right, quit that snickering over there in the corner. In my old age, I may have lost my mind but I haven't lost my hearing.

Seriously, I did do the 5K Run Through the Lavender thingy. Although, had I known better, I wouldn't have even started it because I almost killed myself choking on chewing gum. Standing three feet from the finish line and hacking up a piece of gum gave me an extreme body workout. Just ask all those people who ran like gazelles around me and thereby beat my time. Never once asking if they should call an ambulance.

I'll be the first to admit, though, that despite the fact that I played softball in my youth and that I walk regularly -- oh, all right, so it is from the stove to the kitchen table -- I do not have a beach body.

It's true. After a freak accident several years ago, my doctor told me I would never again be able to wear a bikini.

As he pointed to the stitches on the broken ankle I'd acquire by slipping on the ice -- while walking to the car one winter day to go buy Twinkies and a Big Gulp -- the doctor said, "You might not ever wear a bikini again, but at least you'll be able to walk. "

Either that or he said, "I did a great job and that will be $50, 000, please." In my anesthesia-induced state, I wasn't sure which.

My husband, Russ, thought the doctor's bikini statement pretty funny, but at my 90 day review (otherwise known as a three-month checkup), I thought that for $50,000 the doctor should have done a little liposuction while he was in there and sucked the fat off my ankles so I could wear a bikini.

Despite that past injury and my current inability to wear a skimpy swimsuit, I still continue to exercise. In fact, just today I walked 1.5 miles.

And please ignore Russ when he says it was negated by the fact that I did it with a chocolate chip cookie in one hand and a bottle of chocolate milk in the other. What does he know? Just because he once ran an 8-minute-mile, and bench-pressed 315 pounds, that does not make him a fitness guru.
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(Disclosure: This is a guest post provided by Fitness Alliance. However, my opinions of the sites, events, of companies involved, or the quality of any products mentioned are my own. For more disclosure information, please read the disclosure page.)

"My Extreme Body Workout" © C.L. (Cindy Lynn) Beck
Tags: Fitness Alliance, extreme body workout, beach body, 90 Day Review

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Shutdown in three ... two ... one ... by Cindy Beck

(Based on a grain of truth ... which means this story kinda, maybe, sorta happened. Or not.)

© Cindy Beck, 2009

(Keywords: Cindy Beck, exercise, treadmill, Olympics, Newton's laws of motion, physics, Big Gulp, humorous blog, Ray Stevens, jogging, funny, smile, humor, Latter-day Saints, LDS, yourLDSNeighborhood.com)


Image from Wikimedia Commons.

"Oh look, a treadmill,” I said to my husband, Russ, as we wandered through the home furnishings store.

He lifted one eyebrow. “And you’re telling me this … why?”

“Because I’m thinking about getting one. Between the wind and pollen count, I can’t get much exercise outdoors. A treadmill is the perfect solution.”

Russ snorted. “It’s perfect, all right. Perfect for gathering dust. I bet you’ll never use it.”

I gave him my I’m-a-superior-woman-and-you’re-a-piece-of-lint look. “I will too use it. And I won’t be the only one. I’ll teach the dog how to run on it.”

The sports equipment salesman standing nearby must have been watching TV, because I thought I heard him give a muffled chortle. When I looked over, though, all he did was clear his throat and smile.

“The dog? You're going to put your pet on a piece of exercise equipment?” the sales guy asked.

“Yes, our dog, Corky Porky Pie.”

The man must have been hard of hearing, because he stood and stared at me for a minute. Just as I was about to tell Russ that the guy needed a hearing aid, the sales clerk said, “Would you like to try the treadmill?”

“Sure.” I stepped onto the machine and gazed at the vast array of buttons. The dashboard looked like the console of an airplane. I wondered how Corky Porky was going to figure out which buttons to push.

Using my immense powers of deduction, I decided the big red button meant stop.



But the rest were up for grabs. I reached over and pushed one.

“Power Level 10—Speed Hill,” I explained to Russ as the motor started in a slow grind, and I stepped onto the moving belt. “It shouldn’t be too bad. I can handle—“

“—thiiiiiisssss!” The machine flipped into high gear, and the belt scrolled rapidly under my feet. I stumbled, accidentally flinging my fifty-six ounce Big Gulp at the salesperson. Soda splashed over his suit, and the cup ricocheted off his head, like a tennis ball at Wimbledon. Then it skittered under the elliptical machine nearby (the cup, not his head). The salesman turned and strode toward the partially lit sign that said, “Rest oom.”

I righted myself, hit my stride, and looked at Russ. “This is cool. I probably look like a seasoned sprinter, huh?”

Russ nodded his head. “Yup, just like an Olympic runner with an inner ear infection.”

A small crowd gathered around us—one the size of the population of Boston. I figured they were all marathon fans.

The machine gave a thump, followed by a beep, and I wondered if that meant my jog had ended. Suddenly, a whirring sound echoed off the nearby wall, and the front end of the treadmill rose in altitude, resembling the nose of the space shuttle at blast off. My feet tripped over each other. “No need to worry,” I shouted to the murmuring crowd, as I flapped my arms for balance. “I used to run track in high school.”

I noticed a little boy selling hot dogs among the masses. At the side door, a bearded man hawked tickets to people.

“There must be some big sale and a raffle going on.” I hollered the news to Russ over the whir of the machine and tilted my head toward Mr. Bearded, who appeared to be pointing people in our direction. The head tilt made the room spin and for a minute I almost lost my equilibrium, but years of conditioning—gained by watching NASCAR races on TV with Russ's dad—brought me through it.

Another beep sounded and the belt’s speed increased. I grabbed for the treadmill’s handles. Not that I really needed them, of course, but it seemed like a good time to check my heart rate with the machine’s specialized apparatus.

“Warning! Warning!” A mechanical sounding voice exploded from the front of the machine. “Your heart rate is 562 beats per minute. This machine will shut down in three … two … one—”

Clunk! The belt stopped.

Newton’s first law of motion states that a body in motion tends to stay in motion. As I flew over the top of the console—proving that Newton’s first law still holds true—I thought I heard the crowd cheer. And I gave a victory wave just so they’d understand I was no novice to physics … or to the pole vault.



What's playing in my head: Jogging, by Ray Stevens

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A Blank Slate ... by Cindy Beck

© Cindy Beck, 2009
(Keywords: Cindy Beck, New Year's resolutions, lose weight, exercise, chocolates, humor, Latter-day Saints, LDS, yourLDSNeighborhood.com)




One of life’s joys is that a new year rolls around once every 365 days, thereby giving us a blank slate on which to scribble utterly unattainable goals for self-improvement. Things like, lose ten pounds or exercise seven days a week.

One of my blogging friends from the Neighborhood, Cheri Crane, suggested making a list of “things I have accomplished” over the past year, instead of making resolutions. That way, we have positive reinforcement to refer to during the upcoming months. And that’s what I’ve decided I’d do.

Okay, not really, but Cheri had such good ideas that I thought if I slipped in her blog address, you might go check it out.

This year, I’ve come up with totally achievable goals that I intend on keeping. Here—in no particular order and at no cost to you—are a few that you can feel free to add to your own compilation. Just send me two dollars and a box of chocolates for each resolution used.

1. Gain ten pounds.
2. Oh what the heck, why be stingy? Gain fifteen.
3. Vaccuum once a month.
4. Forget vacuuming and use a broom.
5. Throw out the broom and talk hubby into doing the cleaning.
6. Take more naps.
7. Take longer naps.
8. Forget the naps and stay in bed all day.
9. Eat more junk food.
10. Take more vitamins to offset the junk food.
11. Throw out the vitamins and drink eggnog instead.
12. Spend more money.
13. What money? The stock market decline ate it all.
14. Open more charge accounts.
15. Buy stuff on credit.
16. Feel guilty about buying stuff on credit but keep it anyway.


Now that I look at it, perhaps goals that I’m certain to achieve aren’t such a good idea. Let’s go back to Cheri’s idea of a list of “things I have accomplished” in the past year.

1. Breathed in and out.
2. Grew older.
3. Turned grayer.
4. Gained ten pounds.
5. Hey, ten pounds was on my other list, too!
6. Forgot where I put important papers.
7. Found the papers, but overlooked their significance and threw them out.
8. Made appointments to receive visiting teachers.
9. Forgot and left the house five minutes before they arrived.
10. Took less vitamins and drank more eggnog.
11. Hey, eggnog was on my other list, too.
12. Cursed the darkness instead of lighting a candle.
13. Lit the candle and almost burned the house down when it fell over.
14. Tried fruitcake.
15. Hated fruitcake.
16. Used fruitcake for a doorstop.


I hope that in some small way, I’ve encouraged you to make a list for the new year. Even if it’s only a shopping list. Or, on the positive reinforcement side, a record of dates that your home teachers actually came. No, wait, that might not have anything on it.

Whatever type of list you decide upon, bear in mind that it doesn’t matter what’s on it. You just want to be able to say that you made one. And if you can’t come up with any ideas of your own, feel free to borrow mine.

Just remember to send the chocolates.

What's playing in my head: None. I've resolved to ignore the voices in my head this year!:o)

This blog sponsored by YourLDSNeighborhood.com. Please show your appreciation by returning to and browsing through the Neighborhood.

And while you're there, subscribe to our fantastic newsletter. In addition to being able to shop in the new virtual neighborhood, the LDS newsletter brings you LDS articles, LDS products, LDS services, LDS resources and LDS interviews from around the world—all with an LDS focus. Look for issues delivered to your email inbox every week on Monday, Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday.

Join the Neighborhood Newsletter . . . Subscriptions are free and joining is easy.

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