I'm Gonna Learn How to Fly...High!

I was born in 1972. And I've always had the distinct feeling that I was born at the perfect time. You know...you always hear people say stuff like..."I missed my era", etc. But not me.

Being in the child in the 70's was indescribably awesome. I know a lot of you that read my blog are younger, so let me explain. We were allowed to be kids. We weren't overscheduled with a zillion activities and things just seemed easier. And recess!! We had three 30 minute recesses a day! Recess was where it ALL went down. We played Charlie's Angels and fought over who got to be Farrah. Kickball, Red Rover...we played it all. But the merry go round...that was my THING. Everyone made a beeline for it as soon as the bell rang. Looking back, it was pretty much comprised of splintery boards and rusty metal and was in no way safe for children. It was basically the Tetanus Express. Of course, this was way before the whole "baby on board" phenomenon and our teachers were too busy smoking in the Teacher's Lounge to worry about one of us getting lockjaw. But we all survived and we were happy. We went rollerskating on Saturdays, actually played outside, and had the best music. Plus…check out these kick ass bellbottoms. That's me on the far right with the Dorothy Hammil. I never said all things from the 70's were good.

Of course…this meant I was a teenager in the 80's. I mean…come on...the best. The big hair, the ESPRIT clothing, the music. I was a strictly New Wave girl. No metal hair bands for me. Seeing R.E.M. live in 1986 (before they took over the planet) is my favorite concert memory. And unbeknownst to me at the time…a certain young John Miller was also in the audience that night. Four years older than me and exponentially cooler, I'm sure.

And then there was the super angst-y early '90s. I had my quarter life crisis right along with Winona, Ethan, and Janeane. Reality Bites, if you've never seen it, is a stunningly accurate depiction of the time.

So...you see...perfect timing.

But I have gone off on quite the tangent here. What actually got me thinking about all of this is the room where I go to do one segment of my workout. I've mentioned before that I do cardio and weights, but since the beginning of the year, I've also added in some floor work. Mainly focusing on the lower abdominals. To do those exercises, I go downstairs and get a key from a staff member and go into the dance class studio. It's absolutely beautiful and the best part is that I'm the only one in there during that time of day. Shiny hardwood floors, huge windows. It's nice.

And because I'm a complete nostalgic weirdo, it immediately makes me think of my all-time favorite television show from my childhood........FAME. I never missed it. God, I wanted to be those kids. My 8 year-old self was ready to leave Benton, Arkansas far, far, behind and flee to the Big Apple to attend the LaGuardia High School of Music & Art and Performing Arts . I wasn't quite sure what my "talent" was going to be, I hadn't fully worked all that out...but I had ambition. And I was ready to start paying…in sweat. I wanted to be around musicians who inexplicably carried their instruments to every class, I wanted to wear legwarmers, and dammit....I wanted to dance on top of cafeteria tables. But the MAIN reason...the biggest reason...I wanted Debbie Allen to be my teacher. To give ME that speech. You know the one. And if you don't have any clue what I'm talking about, please check out the link below. It's pure inspiration. And the best part? You can use it when your workout motivation is lagging. I do it often! :) Debbie has NO time for your lackluster excuses. Enjoy!