Fitness and nutrition tips from the front line

By Paula Bender

Early in our relationship, John and I had the typical double-income, no-kids lifestyle. We ate out and traveled a lot. There was some effort at exercising, but we didn’t have fitness goals. Things changed when we got married and plotted the perfect future, complete with children.
 
It's funny how becoming a parent triggers a sense of protectiveness and survival. Holding a babe in your arms makes you think about their future and what would happen if you weren't there to see them through to adulthood. I gained quite a bit of weight with my pregnancies and got complacent, too. After a few years of being a mom, I had to stop blaming the jiggles on baby fat. I cringed at the mirror and didn’t feel as though I matched my beautiful family.

My husband is very trim. He commutes from work on his bicycle, runs several times a week, and works out at the gym. Our first daughter has started training with him, running a couple of miles on the weekends at his side. I grew up swimming competitively and worked as a lifeguard. Naturally, I took to surfing when I moved to Hawaii and have always had a surfboard and a place in the lineup. That was more motivation to lose weight.

In response to my effective whining, my husband suggested I join a gym. That was nearly four years ago. Since then, I haven’t missed more than two days at a time unless I’ve been sick. Combined with joining Weight Watchers, I’ve been able to recapture the surfer girl that was insulated within layers of fat. How nice to be back on my board again.
 
But what about the kids? We have a high-tech household and each kid has her own computer. The danger in that, obviously, is that the little ones become geeky and soft, shunning the sunlight and fresh air of the great outdoors, lulled by inertia and virtual worlds. As a result, our renewed fitness commitment involves them. They swim, practice aikido, ride their bicycles, and soar up and down the street on their scooters. The key is to let the girls have fun without hearing the bad word: exercise. That blows it. They melt into eye-rolling rubber chickens.

Never once have we declared to our girls that exercise is easy. Dad grumbles all the way out the door before his run, but he’s all smiles and relief when he gets back. I wake up hours before dawn to put in some sweat equity at the gym, but I’m singing in the shower when I get back.

Another struggle on the fitness front is a proper diet. I’ll admit it’s easier to avoid dinner-time battles by requiring my second born to eat a token amount of broccoli than the fabulously prepared vegetables the rest of the family is eating. For all the things this kid will do, I’m surprised at her lack of culinary curiosity. But I’ve got a plan.

I’ve decided to show her around the kitchen, introduce her to the cutting boards, hand her a knife, show her how to tuck in her fingertips, and get her slicing. If she starts making some of our salads, perhaps she’ll take pride in her deliciously healthy creations. It’s a start.