Day four of my “20 Minutes a Day Workout Project” was the hardest yet.
I had an hour tennis lesson with Coach Ron and a friend with whom I’ve been sharing private lessons for 3 weeks now.
He literally ran us all over the court today.
I hit some great “it’s crazy that I hit that” shots, and missed some “dork, how did you miss that” shots.
My friend and I are pretty evenly matched, so we make great lesson buddies. The pro is terrific – both with children, (he’s Harper’s coach), and with adults, who play like children.
So I finish up the lesson, feeling, well, I gotta say it, pretty darn good about the fact that I am learning a new sport, and realize I now have an odd insatiable desire to read Andre Agassi’s new autobiography.
(Which I would totally purchase if Beaver had a bookstore . . . grr . . . ok, that’s a future post. See, I don’t, or rather, won’t, shop at Walmart, and occasionally once in a New Moon (pant, pant) purchase off of Amazon. I am totally missing that independently owned bookstore – even if the prices are a bit higher. I particularly miss this one.)
Sooo got sidetracked there.
Tennis is over and I head to Cafe Kolache to work. Yes, actually work. Well, not as in, for money, work, but rather, for Mom To Mom. I grab some coffee, open the laptop, and begin working on finishing an Advent activity for families that I must have done by tomorrow. Eleven more days of family devotions to go.
Then, I get her email.
She needed a boost.
20 minutes. That’s all it would take. I knew she could find the time. Doing my best cyber-Jillian impersonation, I emailed her back with an idea of how she could implement intervals between all the tasks she had to get done.
30 seconds of jumping jacks here.
30 seconds of “jumping rope” there.
Low plie squat in 2nd position with boxing punches.
Some ab work.
I told her that if she could incorporate 2 minutes of intervals into her mopping, and laundry, and scrubbing, she’d feel alot better – and I would know that I was truly holding someone accountable.
Sorry, babe. Just couldn’t let you off the hook.
Surprisingly, er, not, she got in the intervals AND part of her personal exercise routine.
Game on, sista.
This pseudo tennis playin’, half marathonin’, thinkin’ she’s Miss all that ’cause she gave you some of Jillian’s moves, is completely committed and isn’t going anywhere.
Accountabilty is just that.