A Healthy New Year means…Exercise!

Age-Appropriate Exercise for a Writer by Holly Michael

10477885_2449505157705_5786971314081009657_n“Can you find my old rollerblades?” Jake, my twenty-five year old son asked, during a recent visit home with fiancé, Emma. (Jake is a professional athlete, an NFL player. Emma is a coach/personal trainer/fitness blogger-that’s Jake and Emma in the photo)

I retreated to the basement and dug out Jake’s size fourteen rollerblades that I had special ordered when he was in the fifth grade. (Yeah, he was a big boy then, too).

I also found my old rollerblades and wondered…if I could sell them on eBay. Hey, at my age, my rollerblading days were long over. But, back in the day, I’d slip on those wheels nearly every day and race the kids on their bikes and scooters around the neighborhood.

Hanging out with my athletic cutie-pies over the holidays, including daughter Betsy (grad student) and son Nick (tight end with the Ragin Cajuns) inspired me to exercise more in the new year. (Not rollerblading).

IMG_7740But, as a full-time writer, excuses ran through my head. I must write books! No time to exercise!

The scale argued back.

So…starting out in the new year, I settled on age-appropriate exercise that would fit with my busy schedule.

This is what works: I set my timer for one hour and do nothing but write. No Facebook. No Twitter. No Pinterest. Then when the timer goes off, I leave my writing and spend five to ten minutes at some form of cardio exercise—treadmill, fast walk around the block, run up and down stairs. Then, repeat.

It works for me! If you would like more intense exercise and fitness tips from Emma, in the picture at the top, check out her fitness blog.

I’m certainly not as fit as my kids, but I’m determined to write more and be healthy in 2015.

Writing Prompt:

Complete the prompt below for an extra entry in our quarterly drawings! Submit your completed writing prompt via Comments

file0001574547398In a dim corner of the basement, Katy spied her rollerblades under branches of an old fake Christmas tree and tangled non-working lights. She tugged the blades, then fell backwards landing on her bottom.

Unwrapping strands of lights from around her arms and neck, she sighed. “I’m too old and too clutzy to rollerblade.” It’d been almost two decades since she jammed to “I Like to Move it” at Hot Wheel Skating Rink.

Katy stood, unhurt. While the extra pounds she’d gained over the holidays had provided extra cushion, they had to go. She dusted herself off and carried the blades upstairs.

In the living room, Frank looked up from the football game. His eyebrows formed a deep V. “Honey, are you sure you want to put those one? It’s been awhile.”

“Yes, I’m sure.” Katy huffed and ventured out the front door. She sat on the porch and strapped on her blades. She pushed off, then looked up and… 

(photo of rollerblades courtesy of morgue file)