Jump Rope Implausible

From time to time at the gym our trainer has us jump rope for a minute at a time.  Our job, for that single minute, is to jump rope in any fashion we conjure and not fall flat on our face, stumble, trip or in general fail at the basic task of jumping up when the rope goes under our feet.

For a while, I thought there was some sort of defective manufacturing in that jump rope.  Then I decided it was just too long.  After trying various amounts of "choking up" on the rope with no better results, I determined I was a jump rope failure.  But what amazes me is as a child this was a FUN activity.  We liked jumping rope.  We argued that it was our turn next and that Janie or Jake from down the street was taking more than their fair share of time on the rope, they'd better hand it over fast or there would be "trouble."

Why in the world did we find this sort of thing fun?  It's awkward, it's tiring and it's not remotely fun.  If you're going to jump up and down, then do so.  But don't add the additional challenge of putting a measure of string that's whipping about over your head and fast approaching your feet into the mix unless you took your moron pills for the day.  It's not only not fun, it's a sure way to make you feel like an uncoordinated oaf.   Trust me on this.  I'm an expert when it comes to lack of coordination.

So, from a fitness perspective, that one minute must be good stuff because I hate it, it's tiring and I can't manage to do it well--all things that indicate I have room to improve.  What I still can't figure out how is how we found this grueling activity "fun" when we were children.

The Big Boy Update:  Mimi has a second home.  It's a home she doesn't even know she has.  When we got to school sometimes we have to do a loop around the block to get into the drop off line.  The street we turn down is on a hill not unlike Mimi's house is on and it has similarly aged and styled houses on either side.  My son always tells us we're at Mimi's house when we turn that way.

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  Hardcore!  This was a joke back on Thanksgiving day of last year.  My son was trying to pick up a heavy weight and we were telling him he was, "hardcore".  He started repeating it back then and we thought it was cute and encouraged him.  Now, my daughter associates certain things with the word, "hardcore".  Today in the car she was holding a piece of dental floss and yelling, "HARDCORE!" again and again.  I'm not altogether certain how she came to the conclusion that dental floss was hardcore, but it's hard to argue with an eighteen-month-old.

Someone Once Said:  The worst aspect of a chore, and most always more troublesome than the task itself, is procrastinating, putting it off, and not completing it.