My son and I were tackling his weekly kindergarten homework assignment the other day. The tasks are usually fairly simple -walk through town and count the pumpkins, draw a picture of your family, etc. But this time, the teacher threw me a curve ball when he included ,”Do five push-ups and five sit-ups.”
Of course, my son didn’t know how to do either a push-up or a sit-up. I’m guessing that teaching him these basic fitness skills was the goal of the assignment. Instead, it provided a humbling experience for his mother. Although I do my fair share of cardiovascular exercise, I will admit that I haven’t done a push-up since college. I always hated them.
This was the first time that I can ever remember feeling embarrassed in front of my five-year-old. I’ve always been physically superior to him – I mean, he’s only four-feet-tall. But my attempt to touch my nose to the floor in proper push-up form was not entirely successful. He managed three to my almost-one.
We both had a good laugh. But I was feeling a wave of panic emerge beneath this good-hearted chuckle. There isn’t a women’s magazine in the world that hasn’t published an article about osteoporosis. I’ve read them only halfheartedly – until now.
I don’t exercise in order to fit into a certain-size pair of jeans. I just want to be young and healthy for as long as possible – able to keep up with my kids and feel good when I wake up in the morning. Walking, running, and skiing always seemed to be enough.
But I think that my mid-thirties have snuck up on me a little. Maybe it’s time to start doing a little more. With the threat of osteoporosis looming around the corner, some good old-fashioned strength-training might be a good idea. For now, I’m just praying that pull-ups aren’t part of next week’s homework.



