let's get physical
Today brought some variety. We visited a big Tel Aviv park with a challenging rock-climbing wall, since this is one of the things our daughter likes to do. She went right for the most scary looking wall. It was very very high, and halfway up, it veered backward slightly. I doubted she could do it, though she's been coached on good technique by an athletic uncle. Explaining the simple physics of the wall angle, I said, "You're going to be hanging off the wall instead of leaning on it." She responded, "Ooooh, I love that!" and up she climbed. Where the wall started veering outward, the need to hang on to those handholds suddenly became critical, or she'd be twisting in the wind. This was a pressure she hadn't felt before, and she called down that she was scared. We shouted out encouragement as we watched her very competently pushing forward, finding another foothold, then another handhold, then another foothold. We were impressed. Her grandmother (my mother-in-law) was also there, controlling the feeling she was about to have a heart attack. In pretty quick time, the kid made it to the top, and then expertly rappelled back down to us, a bit shaken up and with a nice film of sweat on her brow, but glowing with pride at the accomplishment. Shout out to athletic uncle: She declared she couldn't have done it if he hadn't taught her never to let go of the handhold until you have secure hold of another.
Never underestimate where important learnings may come from.
From there she moved on to the bungee-trampoline activity, where she likes to give ME a heart attack with her mid-air somersaults. I'm always terrified she's going to come down on her head. Funny, she's not very athletic in the usual kinds of sports; maybe she's on her way to being an extreme sports enthusiast? I don't think I can take it.
Meanwhile, I made it to the gym this weekend, scared into a healthy act after watching Supersize Me, finally. It was shocking how quickly the McDiet and no exercise turned this superfit vegan jock into a lethargic, headachey mess.
Why is it SO hard to get myself to the gym? I do enjoy it once I'm there, turning the treadmill into my own private disco floor. My gym has some good music pumped in via an earphone connection at every treadmill, and I was just getting one good [cheesy, disco] song after another yesterday, enough to keep me at it for 40 minutes, with music speaking straight to my body and my psyche. The minute I plugged in, I got the sweet sounds of Gerry Rafferty's sax in "Baker Street", a melancholy song I've always loved. "Just one more year and then you'd be happy, another year and then you'd be happy, but you're cryin', you're cryin' now." Then suddenly it was the unbeatable beat of the great, fallen MJ, the tragedy of our generation, with "Don't stop till you get enough." Sweet. The pulse continued with GingerSpice Geri Halliwell's cover of "It's Raining Men, Hallelujah!" and moved on to "I saw you cryin' at the discoteque" with the "tie like Richard Gere" -- love that one... no idea what it's about. Then another classic: David Bowie's "Let's Dance! Put on your red shoes and dance the blues." Cooling down, it was Santana's "Black Magic Woman" -- more painfully sweet guitar. I was about to call it a day when Jamiroquai started up -- not my favorite one, but I don't know any bad Jamiroquai songs. I couldn't ignore it. This one was "Virtual Insanity" -- a good name for a life, I thought. Or a blog.