A Broad In Costa Rica

FFA

I always thought my husband knew everything. "Ask your father," is my standard response to all questions, like, "Mom, how far away is the sun?" "How deep is the ocean?" "What are bullets made of?" "Where does money come from?" I can only answer the last one off the top of my head ("Why, selling your soul to the devil, honey.") Otherwise, Hal's the answer man, always has been.

Imagine my surprise, when listening to the Dixie Chicks singing Goodbye Earl for the first time, when he asked me, "What's the FFA?" I couldn't believe my ears... but, then, what would a Scranton-born Tufts man know about Future Farmers of America? (Yep, this is the best I can do when it comes to what I know vs. what he knows. Pathetic, I know.) A Kentucky girl knows all about the FFA. At some point in a country girl's life, it's the foreseeable future.

FFA stands for something different for us nowadays. Now, it stands for Future FreeRunners of the Americas. What is free running? When I asked the boys, they directed me here (turn down the volume):

This is how they see themselves getting across town in their foreseeable future: leaping and back-flipping across rooftops. Nerve-wracking for mom? Tell me about it. On the other hand, they are in the best shape of their short lives, they are almost 18, and, since they can hold me at arm's length while I swing and swear, they pretty much get to do what they want. Hopefully, I'll never have to watch them hurl their fragile bodies from a parking garage to a neighboring balcony.

At first, I calmed my terror with the knowledge that conquering their first cityscape was a loooong way into the future. A future when they would understand the madness of free running, then call the whole thing off. That was six weeks ago when they started gymnastics' classes. But they are more determined than that. Last Friday, they were already doing front flips. In six months, they'll be flipping all over the dang place.

Now I pin my hopes on the fact that the first thing a teenager learns is how to land. Surprisingly, self-preservation is high priority among teens. Who knew? Maybe they all drink and drive, but they are not interested in breaking their necks: tuck and roll is the first move they conquer.

The boys take class two places. Sunday mornings, there is one class a month at the big gymnasium in Sabana Park ($16/month each). When we first went to inquire if there was even a class for teens, I thought, if there were, a) it'd be mostly girls and b) mostly tweens. HA! At the first class, there were over 30 teenagers, 90% boys!!! And one 40 year old guy. Probably 10% were really good gymnasts, the rest in descending abilities. I was completely surprised by the turnout. These are not gymnasts in the style of Nadia Comaneci. These teens are looking to free run a la Walters and Livewire.

During the week, they take class at Club Carbonell in La Uruca. The teen class is Mon-Fri 8am-10am; the boys go 3x per week, $6 each per class. They are almost always the only kids there so get a really good workout and lots of personal instruction. Teachers both places are excellent. Costa Rica has a national team and they travel the world competing, winning awards... so, who knew that???

Ryan is the driving force behind free running. Mo enjoys the classes, but not like Ryan. Ryan is obsessed: he does pull-ups, push-ups and crunches ad nauseum. He's lost about 15 pounds, lookin' for the six pack. That dedication is pretty impressive! After Ryan's first class at La Sabana, when they kicked his ass with exercises and running, before he even got to jump on anything, before Mo decided to go along, after that class, when he got in the car, he looked at me and said, "That was the funnest thing I ever did in my whole life." It doesn't get any better than that.

Naturally, I've been videotaping the progress:

The Big Bonus
From the second he got free running fever, Ryan started practicing handstands. He'd do 100 a day easy. Then the push ups started, pull ups and crunches. But handstands first, constantly. At the end of the first week, he got like a chest cold. He's the asthma boy, so anytime he gets a cold, I get worried. But this was different: a productive cough, which is unusual for an asthmatic. You want a productive cough, but you don't usually get it... just the dry I-can't-get-enough-air cough. And no fever, no other symptoms. Just that nice cough and kinda tired. After about five days, he was completely over that. Then I read in my yoga book (the best yoga book ever, I've had my copy since 1975), that upside down positions are excellent for the lungs, loosens up the crap. Coincidence? I don't think so. Whatever, his asthma is way under control these days. There are lots of things that have contributed and I'll write about that soon, but I think upside-downing played a big role at our house!

World-Class Fitness in 100 Words:

From CrossFit.com:

• Eat meat and vegetables, nuts and seeds, some fruit, little starch and no sugar.
• Keep intake to levels that will support exercise but not body fat.
• Practice and train major lifts: deadlift, clean, squat, presses, C&J, and snatch.
• Similarly, master the basics of gymnastics: pull-ups, dips, rope climb, push-ups, sit-ups, presses to handstand, pirouettes (don't miss this video), flips (I'll be posting a video soon of us doing this), splits, and holds.
• Bike, run, swim, row, etc, hard and fast.
• Five or six days per week mix these elements in as many combinations and patterns as creativity will allow.
• Routine is the enemy.
• Keep workouts short and intense.
• Regularly learn and play new sports.

Lots of good CrossFit videos here.

I owned an aerobics/fitness business for 17 years in Key West. Plus I ran 6 miles a day for about 15 years. Then I got married, had kids, started working a real job and got too busy to work out. Once I stopped and got fat and weak, I couldn't get myself motivated again. Unless I was going on stage, then I'd do Weight Watchers and the treadmill till I was skinny. Once the show was over... well, you notice there are rarely full-body shots of me on the blog.

Suddenly, I'm hot for exercising again. (Geez, I hope it lasts!!!) Going to the gym is ok, better than nothing and I can get a good workout there. But it bores the life outta me and it's expensive, especially since the boys have been interested in going. So I'm considering building a home gym. But I'm thinking, why bring all those same boring exercises home? I'm probably much less likely to do them here!

But this gym... I could get really excited having this gym in my house! Add a trampoline in the yard, and we are set. No more expensive than a commercial gym the first year, then practically free after that.

I'm working on it. First thing I'm going to do is hang a rope somewhere I can climb... that would be really cool. Brace yourself: full body shots coming any day now!

My Cup Runneth Over

Mostly with things to do, but I've been gifted with a few lovelies from the universe as well.

1. The first to do today was to search online for the article starring me in the L.A. Times. I seem to have a knack for drawing attention to myself. For free, but hoping it leads to a paying gig. To read the whole article, you have to close the seductive Halle Berry movie ad about a million times. Small price to pay, n'est-ce pas? Actually, I do not star but rather close. And they mention the broad website! Cool. Gee, I wish my book was ready...

2. Putting the finishing touches on Hal's book, Democracy: The Painted Whore. Provocative, si? Our Spanish teacher, Jorge, was shocked by the title. He was thinking puta, when it's actually akin to prostituta: selling oneself for money or gain. If things go as planned (you know, like they usually do), this will be online as an ebook by Tuesday. Getting it ready for the print edition will take probably till the end of the week. Because...

3. Learning Adobe Acrobat Professional 8 ain't simple. Fantastic program for writing ebooks, but this is more than a day's learning curve. Far more. Both of us are learning this, as well as...

4. Learning the ins and outs of Smart Digital Dispatch which is the software we'll use to actually sell the ebooks: it securely collects the price ($9.97) via PayPal and delivers the book.

If you don't have a PayPal account, it is simple and free and, so far, incredibly secure. Better than online banking.  We've had accounts for years. You store credit cards and at least one bank account there, then you can pay for tons of stuff online with a click. You get an email confirmation from PayPal, they back the purchases. If something bad happened, they cover you and investigate. We've never had to use the safety features. Plus, you can get a PayPal debit card. I love debit cards. Unfortunately, Hal keeps finding them.

5. Working on my book Advice From A Broad: The First 100 Things You Need To Know About Coming To Costa Rica. Brevity has never been my long suit. This will be a couple more weeks in coming, but, hang tight, it's almost ready. I know you're anxious... Lots from the blog, of course, but lots new. I'm cracking myself up writing it. Trying to be serious but having a little difficulty. Things are serious enough if you ask me.

6. Rehearsals and memorizing the words for my song in the upcoming LTG Halloween Extravaganza next Saturday night. We all took showtunes (I'm using My Favorite Things from The Sound of Music) and re-wrote the words to go with a zombie theme. Like Thank Heaven For Little Ghouls and If I Were A Zombie, yadadadadadadadadadada. There will be a video... perhaps I'll post it IF I look thin enough.

7. Trying to stay on my diet. I cannot drop this extra 10 pounds. Well, 20. OK, 30. But I'd be happy losing 10. OK, 15. But no matter what I do, it refuses to budge. And no matter where I look, I see it. It's really getting in my way here. I can still see my toes, but if this continues, it won't be long before those disappear and I'll only be able to see bosom. Plus, I need to lose weight for the book tour.

Clearly the recommended 20 minutes of aerobics three times a week which used to work just fine needs to be upped to an hour everyday of vigorous walking. But you see that to do list evolving here? This is only half of it. Who has an hour a day to walk?

So I'm on a modified Atkins diet. And, no, "modified" does not mean it includes ice cream. Unless you think that would work. It's like an Atkins/diabetic/low insulin response foods/Perricone mix. Mostly protein and complex carbs, low-glycemic fruits, no white flour, no white rice, no grains that I can think of except maybe oatmeal. Trying to stay low saturated fat so lots of fish and chicken.

Sadly, I am built for carbs. Especially now. And, after a week of this, I am jonzin' for carbs. Yesterday I was in PriceSmart, looking at sheets, no where near the bakery isle. And I thought, "You know, I could get one of those 6-packs of cinnamon rolls and eat the whole thing and no one would know." At least no one would know right away... I did not, of course, I swear. I don't even eat cinnamon rolls. As a rule. It was worrisome to have that thought cross my mind, as if I'm a sugar junkie or something.

So on a diet and NOT happy. Although I do have more energy and am sleeping better sin carbs. I'll focus on that.

There's a ton of other stuff on the Master to do list. Showering. Making more coffee. Learning about my new affiliate website: www.FiftyToLife.com (nothing there yet) about life for women over 50 and how this is actually the time to celebrate. And how to use my new software affiliate package SiteBuildIt.com with which I am TOTALLY unimpressed so far... All sales and no support. $300 down the drain. We'll see.

At this very second, more coffee is at the top of the list.

I have much to be grateful for this Sunday morning, too. Like the fact that Costa Rican coffee is GOOD and CHEAP. And that my LTG friend Lisa who is going through chemo for breast cancer is doing great. Four treatments down, two to go, excellent prognosis. And, OK, I may be fat, but I'm otherwise in excellent health as are all my boys, all my dogs and my only mother.

Plus - and this is really personally very exciting - I stumbled into a GREAT place for meditation and spiritual hoo-ha. I found it a couple of weeks ago with my friend Candy. Being at this place is like walking into the movie What The Bleep! Absolutely fantastic and, seriously, just what I've been looking for in the Personal Growth Arena. And, no, "personal growth" is not a euphemism for getting fatter. Look for more on Sat Yoga, for sure.

Hope your Sunday is as good as mine. Pura vida! Love, Saratica

This Ain't No Workout-Time!

And this man tried to kill me. Oh, don't let that pretty face fool ya. HA! The man is darkness personified. At least no one over at Workout-Time tried to hurt little ole La Jefa! But I guess here in Escazú, Land of Gringos, things are done a little differently. More developed-nation like. They definitely charge developed-nation-like prices. Still, it's cheaper than Key West. Where isn't?

As soon as we got all moved into our new house, we started looking for a gym. Xavier is hot on working out. Something about getting old. I try not to listen. We were looking for someplace a little more along the lines of good ole Workout-Time that would be charging good ole Workout-Time prices. Something neighborhoody. We don't need no stinking modern equipment to build these old bodies. Perhaps "build" is the wrong word. "Salvage" would be more fitting. But, no, nary a neighborhood gym left in good ole Escazú. I did find a World Gym for $100 month. It had EVERYTHING. Including well-dressed, fit gringas in brand new Nikes and gold bracelets. Too rich for me. Workout-Time was only $16/month. Just the thought of jumping from $16 to $100 got my heart pumping.

After visiting all the gyms we could find, we decided on Gimnasio ArenaTrek. A first-world gym, it was the most welcoming, only $30/month, clean, far more tico than gringo members, with every piece of new equipment we could imagine. And then some. The trainers all look so nice. Which is part of their gimmick. I'm writing this as a public service: don't be fooled. They get your money, THEN they try to kill you.

First, you fill out a complete medical history. In Spanish. You fill out a lot of forms here. Usually just before or just after standing in line. They are all in Spanish, of course. I have the Big Four down: nombre [GNOME-bray, name], numero de telefono [KNEW-mare-oh day tay-LAY-phone-oh, phone number], cedula [SAID-you-la, passport number], and direcciones [dee-WRECK-sea-own-ace, directions to your house... since there are no "addresses" as we gringos know it, you tell people how to get to your house: the directions. You need to know it en ingles y español.]

After the Big Four, there was a long list of diseases I couldn't decipher, so I just checked no. I didn't see any word that resembled insanity and I don't have anything else, so I figure I'm good to go.

Then he weighed me. The results were in kilograms and I am studiously avoiding knowing the conversion. Still, it sounded like an awfully big number for a mere slip of a girl 5' tall.

Then he measured me. He had a tape that went all the way around me. Imagine that. He'd get a result, then shake his head. Yes, he actually shook his head. I'll bet there is no head shakin' goin' on over at World Gym. I decide, however, to save $70 a month, he can shake his head at me.

Then he tricked me. He asked me to grab this instrument with both hands, hold it out in front of me and squeeze the handles as hard as I could. I figured this must be a strength measuring device. I may be pleasantly plump, but I am strong like bull. I squeezed the life out of the thing, got a great BIG number and, extremely pleased with myself, handed it back. He was shocked and awed. Turns out this is a body fat measuring device. If you are ever presented with one of these, go limp.

Then he asks me a whole bunch of questions about what I eat. "Cheeps?" No, I don't eat chips. "Helado?" OK, occasionally I eat a spoonful of ice cream. "Soda?" No, I don't drink soda. We go through this whole list and my answer to almost everything is no. He KNOWS I'm lying, I can see it on his face. But the truth is I don't eat badly. I just eat muchly. I think because I eat so fastly, the FULL signal never gets to my brain. I gotta lot to do and no time for a leisurely meal... so I wolf it down and move on. You can get fat on rice cakes if you eat too fast. I know this for a fact.

I may have mentioned that Hal is an amazing cook. Former restaurateur, Italian family, grew up in the restaurant business, the whole nine yards. His meals taste so good, I don't want to stop. Plus, Mom is moving here in three weeks and she is an actual gourmet cook, so look out. Left to my own devices, I wait until I'm starved, boil water, toss in a bag of noodles, go back to what I'm doing, then sit down to a lovely 5-minute meal of glued together over-cooked noodles with butter and salt. Rachel Ray I ain't. I have other gifts.

Meanwhile, my new friend, Carlos, now shaking his head at all the lies I've told, decides the first thing I need to do is get on the treadmill for 20 minutes. OK, I can do that. Believe it or not, I used to run 6 miles a day with my friend Richard in Manhattan. We'd take off at around 5am from our respective homes at 72nd and Broadway, jog over to Central Park, do the route, jog home... I was so much younger then. I even ran a race in 1986. Ten miles through Central Park. In February. In the snow. Over Heartbreak Hill. I quit running right after that. I had done it all. Why continue the torture?

And, you know, I owned an aerobics fitness business for almost 20 years in Key West. I told Carlos this and he looked at me incredulously. Like "you expect me to believe THAT?" I'm not enjoying my time with Carlos as much as I thought I would.

He doesn't scare me with his twenty minutes on a treadmill routine. Piece of cake. Unfortunately, he wasn't near done. With an evil grin on his face, he added 20 minutes on the elliptical trainer. And THEN 20 minutes on the Wave thing. He must think I'm more than a little plump. The guy thinks I'm FAT. Yeah? Well, I'm also competitive. So this jerk thinks I can't do all this? I WILL SHOW HIM A THING OR TWO ABOUT OLD FAT WOMEN.

I do the treadmill fine. I even add a good amount of incline and he is impressed when he comes by to check on me after 10 minutes. The elliptical is a little harder, particularly after 20 minutes of a good workout already done. I have an elliptical in Key West so I am intimately familiar with how hard that sucker is. Best $2,000 I ever spent, by the way. I actually used it and it actually worked. It's now sitting in Roger's gym at Salt Ponds. Hope it's getting a workout. I sure am.

By the time I get to the Wave thing, I'm plumb wore out. That sucker almost killed me. The movement is akin to skiing (not that I've ever skiied. Could "skiied" possibly be a word?) While introducing me to the Wave, my buddy Carlos patted his butt while staring at mine and gave a big thumbs up. Carlos needs to learn a thing or two about talking to women.

Here's the Wave thing in action. The woman in this video (which is sideways... sorry about that) is using it on level 14. I started on a 3 and had to jump down to a 1 almost immediately. My heart rate was at 160bpm almost the entire time. After 10 minutes, I was dead. Er, done.

We try to go to the gym 3-4 times a week. All I do so far is the 50 minutes of aerobics. I can do my whole 10 minutes on the Wave mostly at the 3, sometimes 2, without heart failure. I actually enjoy the darn thing. And I feel so GREAT afterwards. You forget the magic endorphines do for you. Talk about a body/mind connection. I haven't lost any weight yet... a testament to just how fat I've gotten!!! That last trip to Key West really packed it on. Every time I saw someone, we ate. Next time, I'm meeting everyone at the gym. Or for coffee. Unless they want sushi. Sushi is not fattening and everyone knows it. A little rice never hurt anyone.

FYI, there is a full complement of classes here: yoga, pilates, step, dance, spinning, stretch, even classes using that big ball. I bought one of those balls after I saw Janet Jackson using one on Oprah. Mostly it rolls around the house without my body attached to it. I'm going to use it now. I know there are abs under this belly fat. Somewhere. The ball exercises are HARD, but I don't care if finding my 6-pack is painful. I don't like being fat. And even though I don't like Carlos (ok, I do like him), I don't want the old thumbs up thing with him looking at my hips again. Jerk.

"Casi como Arnold!"

This is our new friend, Batista, from Power Time. (Um, Batista is on the left.) He is the strongman there, lifting huge weights, wearing all the gear and eager to discuss how strong he is. "Casi como Arnold!" he proclaims, flexing his biceps. "Almost like Arnold!" (You know, the governator.) And Batista is really strong. He can do pull-ups. Anyone over 25 who can do pull-ups impresses the hell out of me.

When we first started going to the gym, he was remote and standoffish. But, somehow, without trying, I've charmed him. How do I know? Because about two weeks ago, he started calling me La Jefa [HAY-fa]. Which means The Boss. You say it like you say l'chaim, with that almost gutteral h.

Unfortunately, to the gringo ear, no matter how you say jefa, it still sounds like heifer. If anybody calls me this in Key West, I will have to kill them. And by the time I get back there, with Batista as my personal trainer and inspiration, I'll be able to do it with my bare hands.

Workout Time

I'll be 51 in two weeks. How did this happen? It seems like only yesterday I was young and cute and skinny. Yesterday, 1986. The fact that I may not live forever is painfully clear. If I don't get into better shape, I could drop dead any minute. As part of our home-school curriculum, we looked for a local martial arts class. As luck would have it, we found Workout-Time, a gym that also offers jujitsu.

The membership is $64/month. Total, for all four of us, including classes, use of equipment, everything. Sweet. Of course, you get what you pay for. Workout-Time is perfectly adequate as gyms go. But Gold's, it ain't.

Having owned a fitness business for 17 years, I know my way around a gym. I've been in a lot of gyms in a lot of cities, London to California. I've never seen any place quite like Workout-Time. It's a guy's gym with free weights and the oldest Nautilus-knock-off equipment I've EVER seen. So old that the adjustable parts don't adjust anymore, they've rusted in place. So I do the leg extension with the foot thing at the lowest notch, like I'm 6'1".

I don't think the floors have been vacuumed. Ever. One of the mirrored walls was bashed by a weight, looks like a long time ago. The vinyl is all torn and worn thin. It's good gym etiquette to have a towel with you as you workout, to wipe down the equipment after you use it. This is the first time I've ever used a towel for protection. Kind of like a condom.

Oddly, Workout-Time has the best squat machine I've ever used. This design is perfect: puts your body in just the right position to work the glutes. See those two arms, the white things pointing down? You stand up between these arms, facing away from the camera, and lean your shoulders back against these arms as you squat.

Well, a couple of days ago, the right arm busted off while someone was working out on it. You could seriously injure yourself working out on a steel apparatus loaded up with a bunch of weight as it comes apart. Seriously.

But no injuries this time, and it's business as usual. For a few days, we used it without the right arm. Then it reappeared, welded back on. Gives you a little pause before you load up any of these oldies with discos... You gotta wonder what else is on the brink of busting. You decide not to think about it.

The boys are quite enthusiastic about Rigoberto (ree-go-BEAR-toe) and the jujitsu classes. They get to knock each other down and use weapons. Like the roku shaku bo, which is basically a big stick. You could put somebody's lights out with one of those. When the class is full and everyone is waving a stick, I can't watch. When the class is over and the boys are both sitting on their knees with their palms up and eyes closed, I can't look away. It's so lovely. I'd like to try this at home.

Rigoberto's aunt made each gi which impresses me no end. Rigoberto took the boys' measurements and a week later we have homemade gis. Ryan didn't have his for the photo, but he looks as dashing in his as Mo does. You might be asking why we want our teenagers to be able to remove our livers with one hand. We have no answer. It just seems like a good idea at the moment.

There are fancier gyms around the San Jose area, with ALL the bells and whistles for considerably more money. But we like Workout-Time, it has everything we need for an excellent price. We are crazy about Axel (AXE-ell), the owner (that's him in the doorway), and he seems to get a kick out of us. We are the only gringos we've seen here, besides the Bortmans who told us about the place.

In a fancy gym, we'd have to wear cute outfits and makeup, carry nice towels and ecologically-correct water bottles. At Workout-Time, we can go dressed as homeless people and no one bats an eye. Go in, get fit, go home. Keeps it simple. Which is important in our later years.