Day 79: TRX Kettle Fit Class.

Posted on May 18, 2012 by LaLa

I find it amazing when something that you think has evolved about as much as it ever possibly can does a little jig and reinvents itself.  This is how I feel about exercise classes.  I mean, you used to just show up, put on your best headband, follow the leader, work up a bit of a sweat, maybe have a little dramatic flashdance moment, and then prance home feeling rather good about yourself.  Oh sure, they introduced ground-breaking cardio workout tools from time to time, like the steps with risers, velcro ankle weights, and giant stability balls, but that’s been about it, really.

Now, it’s been ages since I actually attended regular high impact fitness classes (Jazzercise, anyone?), so today’s double whammy TRX Suspension and Kettle-Fit class certainly raised my eyebrows, not to mention my heartbeat.  Seriously, I walked into the large workout room at energyXchange to find long sets of resistance belts with handles hanging from an imposing steel beam that spanned the middle of the ceiling.  As if that weren’t enough, we were then instructed to grab a couple of kettlebells, a skipping rope, and gliders.  I had the uneasy feeling that this was going to hurt.

Kettlebells are for swingers.

I had read about the physical benefits of kettlebells, and had even gone so far as to purchase one to swing around my Irish condo when it was too rainy to be outside and there was really nothing to watch on my twelve very basic cable channels (so, just about every day that I wasn’t in the pub, or when I hadn’t already poured myself a glass of wine after walking in the door, because they recommend you swing them with two hands, and, well, to be fair, the wine was there first).  Needless to say, it was still in mint condition by the time I moved back to Canada.

I haven’t exactly fallen, but I still can’t get up.

The class got underway, and it shared some similarities with the High Intensity Interval Training I had attempted earlier in the week, in that specific exercises were done in about thirty second intervals.  The words ‘muscle confusion’ may have been uttered, either out loud or in my head, but what firmly held my attention were the ones that involved the TRX Suspension system.  Despite my persistence at yoga, my balance is still impressively poor, and my core strength is not exactly the best.  So when we were instructed to loop one of our ankles through the handles and extend it behind us while we attempted one-legged squats, I ended up doing my best bouncy airplane impersonation in an effort to prevent a catastrophic crash-landing.

The other sequence that I found slightly perturbing was when we had to loop each of our ankles in a handle and hold ourselves in the plank position for what seemed like forever.  This feat of strength was livened up even further with a few pikes or crunches where we brought our ankles towards our hands and then extended them again.  Ah, good times.

Just hanging around.

Strangely, what I didn’t mind as much were the upper body moves using the TRX, such as when we had to use the handles to first hold ourselves away from the center beam, followed by pulling ourselves towards it, alternating our arms in three different positions.  Using our own bodyweight here seemed somehow more natural, and for some strange reason made me reminisce about old school male gymnasts holding themselves in a cross position on the rings.  Of course, that may have just been the delirium setting in, hard to say.

Overall, though, I did enjoy the class with its evolutionary exercise equipment.  On some level, the goal of keeping me challenged and focused was definitely met, while I also miraculously managed to participate in all the moves without feeling like a complete and utter dufus.  Now that’s what I call progress.

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Day 78: Cauliflower Crust Pizza.

Posted on May 17, 2012 by LaLa

Cauliflower.  It’s right up there with broccoli and Brussels sprouts in terms of being one of the least popular vegetables on the planet.  Merely the mention of it makes most children shudder in abject horror.  Well, it seems to be attempting a bit of a comeback lately, with the all-important discovery of its deliciously silky smooth texture when pureed.  Who knew?!!

In the middle of pretty much nothing the other day, I happened to stumble across a recipe for making a pizza crust out of cauliflower that piqued my interest.  Not only was it gluten-free, which is always a good thing for many of my friends these days, myself included, but it also had that freakish twisted factor that intrigued me straightaway.  I wondered if I could fool a couple of my pizza aficionado friends into believing the crust was traditionally made with real wheat?  Challenge accepted!

Ooey gooey leftover goodness!

Okay, so I need to come clean.  I actually attempted this experiment on Wednesday, following the community gardening initiative.  The real new thing today, then, was eating leftover cauliflower pizza if you want to get all technical about it.  But still, the actual making of it counts as a new thing, at least on some level.

The first snafu I encountered in its preparation was when I decided to take a mid-morning nap following the hard labour involved in shovelling dirt.  As you may have guessed, manual physical labour and I are not close.  I woke up in time to realize that I hadn’t yet been to the grocery store to buy the requisite ingredients for the pizza – you know, like the cauliflower, almond meal (ground almonds), cheese, and, well, pretty much all of the toppings.  Ah, details…

Cauliflower pizza crust deconstructed.

As I texted my friends in a frantic effort to delay our lunch, I scurried into Loblaws and Bulk Barn, returning with everything to get started, at which point I decided to read the recipe with more than the previous passing glance.  Junior chef error 101:  always read the recipe thoroughly, and at least a day in advance, in case there is any special equipment or resting time required.  Doh!

The food processor saves the day!

Apparently, this particular formulation called for a food processor, which I do not happen to own.  As it turns out, trying to finely chop cauliflower by hand or in a blender is not really the way to go, as you end up with some of it turning into a paste, and the rest of it staying pretty chunky and grainy.  Thankfully, my friends arrived at this point, and the one who happens to be a very good cook rifled through my cupboards and found the hand blender with the food processor attachment.  Right, I had completely forgotten about that particular contraption, go figure.  Naturally, it worked like a charm.

With that bit out of the way, we were able to combine it with the almond meal, egg, garlic and onion to form the dough, which we then spread onto a Silpat and baked in the oven, taking a stab at setting the temperature to 350 F.  And we guessed wrong.  It was clearly far too much effort to click through to the original recipe, where all these kinds of important facts were stored.  in any case, it did eventually brown up, and resembled a crust, so we were happy enough to continue with the process.  Okay, the rosé wine may have had something to do with keeping our spirits up, but, you know, details.

The wine keeps the toppings company.

At this point, the whole idea of trying to fool these guys as to the nature of the crust went out the window, since they were privy to the entire process.  So I did what any quasi-intelligent lazy cook would do, and put them to work.  In no time, we had expertly sliced vegetable toppings that were perfectly sautéed and ready to go, giving us plenty more time to sip our deliciously fresh and summery wine.  We then added a solid layer of store-bought pesto to the crust, and piled on the toppings and cheese, which included mushrooms, zucchini, red peppers, tomatoes, arugula, and olives.  Back into the under-heated oven it went, where we continued to keep a careful half-cocked eye on it.

Cauliflower crust cooked to perfection.

Eventually, it was ready and we dove in, as we were quite famished, not to mention tipsy by this point.  It was surprisingly tasty and delicious!  Even my biggest pizza loving friend had to admit that it was a very acceptable alternative to the real thing.  Phew!  We all had seconds, it was that yummy.  And the two wee slices that managed to avoid consumption until the following day did a stand-up job when reheated in the microwave.  I would even venture as far as to say that they were even tastier that way.  And that was without the wine, which had somehow managed to magically evaporate in the space of twenty-four hours… Stupid house-elves.  It’s so hard to find good help these days.

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Day 77: Community Gardening.

Posted on May 16, 2012 by LaLa

There are few things in life more humbling and simultaneously satisfying than manual labour.  I actually got up at 5:30 am – on purpose – this morning, not to catch a flight, but rather to help shovel soil from huge bags into wheelbarrows, pots and beds – for free.  And I somehow managed to enjoy myself in the process.  Now, before you ask, yes, I have quite possibly lost my last few remaining marbles, but that does not preclude the fact that the simple things in life can be both weird and absolutely wonderful at times.

It all started with a group of four friends who were on maternity leave.  They decided to take advantage of their ‘time off’ to convert a small, desolate plot of land next to a railway underpass into a community garden.  It took a lot of time and hard work, but they eventually managed to secure all of the necessary permits, local business support, neighbourhood involvement, funding, design and supplies to help their coffee break notion of an idea fully blossom into the reality that is The Rail Garden.

A good friend of mine lives in a nearby apartment, and was fortunate enough to secure a half of one of the coveted planting beds.  She assisted several weekends before today in clearing the ground, framing the beds and even building cute little benches from which to bask in the garden’s splendour.  I was otherwise occupied on those occasions, I dunno, blowing glass, or something.  So there was no way that I could possibly refuse the seemingly innocent request to lend a hand filling the beds with soil.  My Brownie reflexes of days gone by caused me to pipe up in a heartbeat.  Of course I was in!

This morning, my friend and I arrived pretty much at sunrise to already find Frankie ‘Flowers’ and his crew from Breakfast Television on the scene, because, you know, they’re everywhere.  The next thing that greeted us was a gorgeous selection of breakfast treats, including homemade granola, yogurt, and a big bowl of beautiful berries.  But we barely noticed those next to the huge selection of bite-sized muffins, cinnamon rolls, croissants and, of course, the ubiquitous Timbits.  Apparently, community work has its privileges!  With our energy levels restored, we headed over to where the forklift had dropped off huge sacks of soil, picked up a couple of shovels and got down to business.

All of the neighbours were very friendly, and their children provided us with endless entertainment.  Over the course of about an hour and a half, things in the garden progressed nicely, including the stiffness in my neck and shoulders.  Not having had the need or desire to wield a shovel in many years, these particular muscles were clearly out of practice.

Luckily, one of the ladies with a plot near my friend’s also happened to be a masseuse, and thoughtfully brought along her massage chair.  Since no one else had pestered her yet, I felt it was only my duty to break the ice, and bring attention to this most generous service that was being sorely neglected.  It felt positively heavenly, and like my own reward of sorts for giving back a little to the community.  Who knew that karma could indeed be your friend after all.

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Day 76: Try Joga and HIIT Classes.

Posted on May 15, 2012 by LaLa

Good grief!  I had no idea that exercise classes at an un-gym could be so un-freaking-believably hard.  WTF!?!  I actually trusted the Joga class write-up that I thought said previous yoga experience should be sufficient to attend the next level class.  Wrong!  As someone who has dabbled in yoga for the majority of her adult life, I have never been as stunned as I was last night, watching the purportedly human figures on neighbouring mats contort themselves into shapes right out of Cirque du Soleil.

Click here for a brief intro to Joga (watch from 3:40 to witness this ‘next level’ of crazy.)

Joga, in case you were curious, was developed by the stunningly beautiful Jana Webb as a way to teach yoga to jocks.  She counts several pro football and hockey players amongst her clients, while still managing to teach a few classes here and there, including at energyXchange, where I am currently getting my butt kicked on an almost daily basis.  The focus of the practice is supposedly on breath, physical postures, and relaxation.  Hmm…  To me, this seemed more like:  jaw-hanging open in awe (breath), pretzel-twisting feats of strength (postures), and mind-numbing fatigue from sheer exhaustion (relaxation).  But let’s not split hairs.

Being the determined girl that I am, I fully intend to sign-up for a Joga for Beginners class to give it another go, as perhaps there were a few subtle building blocks that I missed that would make it all appear to be ever-so-slightly less insane.  By then, I’m sure my short-term memory will also have kicked in, convincing me it really wasn’t so bad.  Heck, I might even be able to walk without wincing again by then, too.  Good times ahead!

This is not me… yet. Maybe…  One day??

Just to really underscore my newfound physical humility, I revisited the scene of the crime today to take a High Intensity Interval Training (HIIT) class.  I ignored the subtle hints that the kind girl behind the desk gave me as I was leaving last night, that perhaps I might want to try something a little less challenging so early on in my return to physical torture – uh, I mean, well-being.  I needn’t have worried.  Oh sure, the class was hard, but the moves were completely doable, especially in comparison to the intricate Joga manoeuvres.

I actually think I rather enjoyed the HIIT class on some level, as it seemed to be perfectly suited to someone with my shiny object tendencies.  We never did any one exercise for more than 30 seconds or so in a row, and we got frequent 10 second or more rests in between the moves that were very unlike Jagger, and much more like squats, front kicks, skipping rope, gliding, and funky one-armed sit-ups with a kettle bell.

It always seems like a good idea at the time…

I waddled home with a general all-over body ache that was not entirely unpleasant – at least, so far.  But, as they say, tomorrow is a new day, and only time will tell just how much of a shock to the system I have actually endured.  Hmm… Is that my support group I hear calling my name?  You know, the ones with the margaritas in their hands on the patio?  Best start shuffling my way over there to help ensure my muscles remain relaxed.  Oh, and I hope my drink comes with a bendy straw… Just saying.

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Day 75: Projection Booth Cinema.

Posted on May 14, 2012 by LaLa

I can’t believe we just ate a healthy salad for lunch!

All hail the return of Miser Mondays!  One of my precious deals was redeemed today, with the assistance of a good friend of mine.  She came over early enough to try and keep me on the right track, by co-preparing a delicious, yet healthy, homemade nicoise-style salad.  Yum!  After devouring that, we did a little research for an upcoming trip, before walking over to watch a film at the new-to-me independent Projection Booth Cinema.

One of the simple joys of my current employment-free status is being able to watch a movie at 1 pm in the middle of a weekday.  It felt so luxurious yet mischievous all at once, as though we were a couple of truants, skipping school.  We giggled all the way over.  

Upon arriving, I presented my 2-for-1 voucher ($8 instead of the usual $16), for what turned out to be a semi-private screening of the documentary ‘A Place Called Los Pereyra‘.  Seriously.  There were only two other people in the entire theatre.  How awesome is that!

The place has everything that an alternative, independent and foreign film house should have – namely, a focus on keeping it ‘reel’, and less so on the bells and whistles.  The lobby is on the smallish side, with a cute, yet fully stocked concession stand off in one corner, tucked into what may have been a cloak room in one of the building’s previous incarnations.  There are a few assorted tables and chairs littered with newspapers and other self-important industry-related periodicals in the middle of the space.  Beyond that, there are a couple of washrooms and doors leading to the main screen, and that’s pretty much it.

A wooden ladder on one side of the screening room disappears up into the booth where the projector is saddled with the reel of the hour.  Now, this is about the point where we undid most of the good of the healthy salad lunch by being seduced by the wafting aroma emanating from the popcorn machine.  I mean, who can resist?

The movie itself was slow-moving, yet powerful, as it related the story of a small, isolated village in the interior northwest of Argentina.

* SPOILER ALERT * It revolved around the community’s schoolhouse, and the apparent hopelessness for the future of its children to break the cycle of poverty and escape to a different world.  The entire countryside looked forward to the annual visit of a group whom they revered as ‘the Godmothers’, who turned out to be nothing more than a high school group of Catholic teenaged girls on a charity camping expedition.

The film doesn’t get any peppier, ending with the grim proclamation that the visits ended after only five years, and the Godmothers have not returned to the area since 2008.  It was enough to drive me to eat the rest of the cheese in my fridge upon my return home.  Ah, after a few cubes, I could feel sweet serenity descending, as I waited for my short-term memory to carefully erase the image of the tear-stained faces during their final farewell.

I must say, it is both handy and heartening to have an independent film house in the neighbourhood, that offers a bit more movie-going selection than the latest Hollywood cartoon-turned-feature film (nothing against The Avengers, but once in a while, a documentary can be nice to shake things up a bit).

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