Def: gym sneakers
Sometimes my dad gets endless enjoyment out of one joke, memory or word. When he was visiting in October, I mentioned that the French call their sneakers “baskets”—American speak for basketball sneakers. It still cracks him up. So when I was home and got my snazzy new Nikes, we got a lot of mileage out of the baskets joke.
But my new baskets are no joke. I love new sneakers when they’re all springy and make you feel like you can literally go that extra mile. This morning, I went to another goofy aerobics/body conditioning class at the gym. Just me and a couple French dudes, doing Jazzercise-type dance moves and pumping iron to club music. Awesome.
But soon I will try Klay’s spinning classes. Mary dared Dad and me to go to an 8 a.m. spinning class when I was home and we rose (tres early from bed) to her challenge. I was petrified that it was going to kick my butt. But I loved it; I’m a convert and can’t wait to do it again (after all, there are all kinds of Christmas cakes and pastries begging to be tried…).