I swear sometimes. And sometimes my sense of humor is blue or inappropriate, and sometimes I find bodily functions funny.
None of those happen all that often—swearing and farting and inappropriate stuff are a lot funnier if they’re used judiciously—but I’d like to set the precedent early so that nobody reading the blog expects it to be Sesame Street.
(That was a hint. If you’re really appalled by the kind of things I mentioned, look away. I don’t promise to always warn.)
I had a nice workout ha-ha recently. One of my co-sufferers/friends/awesome people was there, and I asked after her husband, who wasn’t. They often work out together, although recently his work schedule has forced him into a different time slot. And today, she told me, he was ill and not working out at all.
Montezuma’s revenge, she said, which I guess could be TMI, but I’m really not too bothered by that kind of thing, and she was pretty safe in believing I’d be okay with it, so it was cool.
She explained that he was going to be fine, just that for the next day or so he wasn’t in a mood to do much of anything.
Especially not Montezuma’s Revenge box jumps.
Then another friend nearby who has the same lackadaisical attitude towards Too Much Information coined the term “squirt jumps,” and it’s lucky the class started then or things probably would have gotten tasteless.
I don’t generally laugh through warm-ups, but we started with squats, and that was just too close, and we probably made a spectacle, but at least it was audible and not solid, and at least the instructor didn’t say he wanted us to rip out ten more.
And yes, the workout did eventually include box jumps, and no, none of them went to a dark place.
I guess the lesson is to always drop the kids off at the pool before your workout.
And that’s why you don’t teach lessons.