So, as those of you who have taken to brutally mocking me already know, I have decided to supplement my regular workout routine with skipping. The more workout-dude-appropriate term for this, apparently, is jumping rope; however, throughout my entire life, when I see someone with a rope and they are hopping it — at whatever speed — I can only think of them as skipping. Much like when my schoolmates used to bail on classes, I didn’t think of it as truancy, I thought of it as… well, skipping.
The important thing is, evidently I like to compress my vocabulary down to the fewest possible words. At this rate, by the time I’m fifty, all verbs in my lexicon will be skipping, all adjectives will be awesome, and all nouns will be chocolate.
More critical than that, though, is that I’ve discovered that there are vast and varied approaches to properly skipping rope. It’s estimated that ten minutes of skipping represents the same calorie burn as thirty minutes of jogging (at a ten-minute mile, which… I don’t know, there’s a lot of math there involving tens and thirties I’m sure you’d have fun doing), and given that I rarely do anything other than run for cardio exercise, I figured it might be worth a go.
But! Research first! Young, perverted males in the audience might remember getting up early to watch The 20-Minute Workout for their early morning porn fix, and impatiently having to sit through the warnings about consulting a doctor and preparing adequately. While waiting for the women in tights to appear, those males might have wondered just who would actually call their doctor for permission to do a TV workout, since it seems hopelessly hypochondriac.
Aspiring fitness buff: Hello, 911? I need to talk to a doctor right away, it’s an emergency.
Operator: Can you describe what’s going on? Are you injured or bleeding?
Aspiring fitness buff: I don’t know! I might be, soon!
Operator: Are you in danger?
Aspiring fitness buff: I think I could be! Wake Up And Work Out is about to start, and I haven’t consulted a physician — am… am I going to die?
Operator: Sir, police have been dispatched to your location. You should be seeing them shortly.
Aspiring fitness buff: No, no — I said doctor!
But the principle is sound: Don’t try new exercise without at least asking someone else if it’s a good idea.
Happily, having the internet means that you don’t need people any more, particularly when it comes to medical or fitness advice. Countless websites are there to help you assess, diagnose, and actualize your way to whatever in the world you please, without any of the trouble of engaging a living, breathing human who might ruin your fun. The only question that remains is which of the roughly 30-gojillion-billion webpages will you choose to listen to?
Now, I don’t think I’m a shallow person. I’ve been around the internet for a while, and I remember when everyone’s webpage had rainbow font and flashing text. I can understand the value of content versus presentation; I can appreciate the less-is-more principle. But here’s the deal — if I have to choose between one of two people to listen to about jumping rope, is it going to be someone who looks like this:
Hi there, I’m a pleasant, non-threatening, attractive and athletic blonde woman on the Men’s Health website. Let me teach you the joys of jumping rope for fitness.
Or this:
YEAHHHHHH! I AM BUDDY LEE! I AM SKIPPING ROPE FOR AMERICAAAAA! I AM SCARY AS HELLLLLL!
Now, granted: Doing anything in a unitard decorated like the American flag is pretty awesome. I bet you could be washing a car or buying groceries in a unitard made from an American flag, and inspire children to cheer for you. Plus, Buddy Lee looks like he could single-handedly defeat Communism with nothing more than a skipping rope and the right attitude.
On the other hand, am I going to feel like I can do anything even close to what a man in national colors whipping a rope around himself at high speed can do? Or am I going to feel more comfortable taking advice from someone who looks like a buddy’s attractive girlfriend, giving me fitness advice in the hopes that I can pull myself together?
You make the call.
Attractive friend’s girlfriend who just wants me to try — just try — exercise for a change?
Or terrifying defender of freedom, Buddy Lee?
Either way, I’m still calling it skipping.