The Olympians in our Family

Read my cousin’s blog this morning about running a 5k with her daughters. How awesome is that?

Last time I had a push-up contest with one of my children, I almost completed one. (Push-up, not contest.) And yes, since then, I’ve been practicing for a rematch. I’m at ten. Shhh.

Here’s my question: if I continue adding at least one push-up every week, will I be able to do 52 more after one year? I’m intrigued by what the human body is capable of accomplishing, given enough practice.

And alternately, what some of us are incapable of doing, no matter how much we practice.  Or maybe we just think we can’t, so we just never find out? If I ran my 10K just 0.1 mph faster every week, would I be able to break the world record before I’m forty?

No?

Yesterday, I challenged my soon-to-be middle school son to see how many sit-ups he could do in a row.

He got down on the floor. I wandered into the kitchen and began making dinner.

A few minutes later, he came in, sweaty and scowling.

“How many did you do?” I asked.

“Only 36,” he grumbled. “I could have done more, but there was this horrible music playing.”

The source?

His father was singing the Rocky theme song for him.

Ha.

Now every time he tries to do sit-ups, someone sings it for him.

Family solidarity. Brings tears to your eyes, doesn’t it?


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