Look here
Another funny exchange between me and Kara (Fitness Director of NWPT) outside of the studio. Something about our outdoor exchanges. Maybe it’s the fresh air and no walls.
This time the subject was my leg (remember, I was hit by a car just about 18 months ago and suffered a fractured tibia). For the last couple of months, I have been feeling really strong, as if I had made a full recovery. Then a few weeks ago, in boot camp while doing an exercise on my knees I felt something pop. It’s been a rough go ever since. So, I’ve refrained from boot camp and instead have been cycling and rowing like crazy. I love cardio, but I need muscle strengthening too. It’s frustrating my mind says, “Go.Go.Go.” Myleg says, “Hold up wait a minute.”
Anyhoo, I went on about how my leg is not cooperating. My ankle has even been puffy and swollen — raising my pant leg to show her. Yeah, this all happened right on the corner of Evergreen and Broadway. After inspection, she agreed it was definitely swollen. Her advice: Keep icing and elevating my leg especially after working out. Be careful and mindful of my actions I don’t want to re-injure myself. My advice to my leg “Look here I have training to do, living to do. Get with the program.”
Chrisetta Mosley
I am a product – and now a survivor – of childhood obesity. As a child, my family always told me that my extra weight was merely baby fat and I’d eventually grow out of it. I never did. Instead, my childhood is filled with memories of not being able to ride a bike, flattening its training wheels from being over the recommended weight, and avoiding P.E. classes by any means necessary. For years, I wore my fatness like a wounded soldier wears a Purple Heart - with pride. I owned the look. I dressed it up. I worked the room. There wasn't a skinny girl who intimidated me. I made sure my hair was laid just right. Nails polished. Outfits coordinated to the tee. Accessories to compliment every outfit. But everyone has a breaking point, and mine came in the spring of 2004 when I tipped the scale at nearly 400 pounds 388 to be exact. I was MISERABLE trapped inside of that body. I no longer wore my Purple Heart with pride. Rather, I was ashamed and frightened. Ashamed that I had allowed food to become my everything – frightened I would die because of it. Drastic times called for drastic measures... Today, I’m bound and determined to live a better, healthier, active lifestyle. I realize I’m no longer a passenger in my life, I’m the driver. I’m overcoming my inhibitions and I’m slowly but surely saying farewell to my old childhood nemesis, obesity. For once and for all, Farewell Fatso!