May 6-9: Awesome Headband and Not Much Else (Does One Need More?)

Did you miss me? Blogging every day is harder than it sounds. I'll try to be better at it for the rest of May, though. On Thursday I was at Target Field for several hours, hauling boxes of t-shirts and greeting folks who got free tickets for a Minnesota Idea Open event. I'm going to say the lifting/pushing of boxes counts as movement, particularly since I was wearing this awesome sweatband while doing it:

I'm not sure what conveys, "I mean serious business"

more: my expression in this photo or the headband.

Friday and Saturday didn't involve any particularly interesting movements to speak of. Sunday I got back into the swing of things with a little off-roading. There's a mysterious unpaved path that juts off from my normal walking route, and I decided to explore. I didn't know where it lead, but it ended up winding through beautiful forest area, up and down some hills. I think it actually led me close to @nerdofnoir's backyard before spitting me back out onto the main road. I didn't see a single soul on this alternative path, and found some good secluded spots for forest reading. I should see if Mr. Noir wants to do some forest reading with me sometime.

The Verdict: Secluded forests bring happiness, as do headbands. Maybe if I'm feeling especially awesome I'll have to combine the two someday.

May 5: Swinging Solo

I decided today would be a nice day to go swinging, so I headed to the park. It was a dampy day, and where I live people only go outside if it's sunny and at least 65 degrees. So I thought I'd for sure have run of the whole playground. I didn't want any strangers watching my novice swinging. But sure enough, when I got there, some darn kids were monopolizing the swings. I hoped if I hung out for a bit they would leave, especially since the weather was turning sour. A couple drops materialized from the sky, and soon they were heading for the car (wimps!). I identified the strongest, tallest looking swing and got to work. And w-o-w! So much fun! It's exhilirating to defy gravity with ease, and to see your feet in a place and position you don't normally see them.

Photographic reenactment

Several minutes into the swinging, it occurred to me that this particular piece of equipment was designed for a smaller audience, and a chain could break at any moment, sending me off into the clouds. I then rationalized that in the absence of a "No Adults Allowed" sign, and in the presence of all the fun I was having, I should keep going. When I finally had my fill a few minutes later, I dismounted and checked the bottom of the swing for any weight restrictions. There was some message about grave danger if more than one kid used the swing at a time, but I'm not a kid and I was solo swinging, so I should be fine, right?

The Verdict: Swinging is fuuuuun stuff. I'm going to do it more often, even if I have to risk life and limb in the process. There really should be more playgrounds for adults.

May 4: My Milkshake

Ok, I'll admit up front I wasn't feeling the movement thing today. But sometimes good movement ideas are inspired by acts of daily life, and that's what happened tonight. It you've ever bought real, unhomogenized milk, you know it comes with a "cream top" that must be dislodged before the milk can be poured. You can either scoop it out with a utensil or your finger, or...you can sh-sh-sh-sh-shake the whole bottle, which helps distribute the milk fat. I went for the latter, and I went for it with gusto. At first it was just my arms doing the moving, but soon the rest of my body joined in: I swiveled, I spun, and as soon as I realized what I was doing (shaking milk), this song came in my head:

I was left with a wonderfully frothy, creamy drink. It was good, and I had done my moving for the day.

The Verdict: Kitchen aerobics should become a legitimate sport.

May 2 & 3: Stop, Drop, and Roll! And Beware the Pecan Pralines

Day 2 of the #MoveinMay challenge was Powderhorn's May Day parade and festival. It was a beautiful day to watch a fanciful parade of musicians, puppets, and costumed ruffians, and to wander Powderhorn Park with friends. There were all sorts of cool movements going on: tricked out bikes cruising through the streets; men, women, and children on stilts; ceremonial canoers fighting the wind across the lake. After standing and walking most of the day, I had to get in on the action. My friend Meredith and I spotted a some little kids rolling down a hill, and decided to try it out for ourselves. Little kids rolling down a hill looks roughly like this:

It's cute and sweet and their little bodies are just the right size for downhill tumbling. As soon as I dropped to the ground and let gravity take its course, I realized human beings aren't meant to travel by gravity. At least not horizontally, or in loose-fitting jeans. With each rotation came a jarring bump and the inching down of my pants. By the time I made it to the bottom, I was laughing hysterically, covered in grass stains, and half clothed. Mr. Dels (is it weird that I call people by their twitter names?) may or may have pictures of this escapade. I'm not sure I want to know. Apparently we didn't look too discombobulated. Our tumble inspired some other adults to get in on the fun.


On Day 3 my creativity waived. After dinner I started munching on raisins, dark chocolate, and pecan pralines. These are foods sugar addicts sometimes eat when they're craving sugar, but trying to eat more "natural" and "healthy" foods (and in denial). Sugar is sugar is sugar, so I started feeling that weird combination of sluggish and antsy. I grabbed my iPod, hit the trail, and began what was to be a long walk. As I approached the bottom of a hill, this song came on:



Now, watch this video, go outside, listen to it on your headphones, and try not to run. You can't do it. I promise. So the song comes on, and I start sprinting up the hill. I feel great...until I make it to the top. And then I remember the third commandment of sprinting: "Thou shalt not eat a handful of pecan pralines minutes before intense exertion." My lungs burn, my stomach turns, and I walk it off without having to dip my head into the bushes (thankfully). My long walk becomes a short walk and short sprint, and my lesson is learned.

Do not eat these immediately before running.

The Verdict: Hill rolling is fun, but should be done while wearing tight pants and possibly body armor. Different arm positions will probably yield various levels of bodily injury: this should be explored further. Pecan pralines must be avoided before sprinting. Or walking. Or lying down. For goodness sakes, just avoid the darn pecan pralines. They are not conducive to any kind of movement.


Amendment: Mr. Dels (also known as Kyle) did in fact get some shots of the hill rolling. Behold (that's me on the left, and Mer on the right):

May 1: Behold My Blades

The last time I was on a pair of rollerblades had to be in middle school. For awhile, birthday parties at Saints North were all the rage. We'd snap on our blades and spend hours circling the rink, taking breaks only to eat horrible pizza and buy some pogs (remember pogs???). The day wasn't about skating or pizza or even pogs, however. It was all about which member of the opposite sex you were going to partner up with during the "Snowball," when they turned down the lights, pumped the Boyz II Men, and encouraged 12-year-olds to express their interest in each other in the most awkward way possible: by holding hands while hobbling around on rollerblades.

So that was the memory of rollerblading that flooded back to me when I found these babies in my parents' garage today.

In a brief surge of inspiration, I decided to transform a symbol of insecurity and self-consciousness into one of empowerment (because people on rollerblades look nothing if not empowered, right?). I imagined myself breezing down the bike path, all confident like, making it to the park in half the time it took me to walk. Those delusions of grandeur were quickly put in check as I laced them up and clumsily attempted to make it to the end of the driveway without falling. I slammed into the side of my car to avoid rolling into the street, and realized I was going to need some help. I foraged up some piping thingamagigs from the garage to use as poles, and waited for there to be no cars in sight before crossing the street onto the path. It was a shaky start for sure, but soon I was crusin'. And it was a good workout! Definitely employed a set of muscles that haven't seen much play lately, and I felt slightly spent when I returned back to the yard and collapsed in the grass. I can only imagine what a sight I was clanking along on my old blades with a couple pieces of pipe in hand.

The Verdict: I'll definitely be strapping my blades on again this summer, and I enjoyed the poles component of it too. It strengthened my desire to take up cross-country skiing next winter. Now...anyone want to go to Saints North with me? I'll buy you a pog!