As a personal trainer, I get a ton of questions about the human body. From a ninety year old asking, “Is this how you get a…what do they call it?…chiseled butt?” to the guy who wasn’t sure where his knee was located, I’ve heard it all. But this question is easily one of the most common:
“Mia, if I just have thirty minutes to work out, what’s the most effective use of my time? Jog for thirty minutes without stopping or do fast intervals for thirty minutes with rest?”
First things first. If you’re training for a specific athletic event…
Rather than awaiting the most persistent sperm, researchers are finding evidence that the egg obsessively screens and rejects sperm who don’t pass her standards.
Here’s the scene at The Swervix, where all the sperm gather to try and impress the eggs.
Sperm #1: Let’s pick up some hot eggs to make babies with.
Sperm #2: Yeah dude, let’s pick up some hot eggs to make babies with.
*Both sperms get rejected by all the eggs*
Sperm #1: There aren’t any hot eggs here anyway 🙄
Sperm: Hey girl, you wanna know how I handle beautiful, fragile things like yourself? Genitally.
Women are not small men. From their cells and chemical compositions to their ability to own more than one towel, women are physiologically distinct from men. Yet to gain respect in athletics, all women need to beat every man who has ever played in the history of playing. If a woman can’t lay out the entire Steelers defensive line by herself — slut! LOL— she shouldn’t be trying to play sports.
It might surprise you, but I support this. If women want to get credit for doing something well, then “well” isn’t good enough. They’d better be the fucking BEST…
My client with a history of elbow surgeries came to me in tears one morning. A year or so prior, I had put her on an assisted pull-up machine. Even with maximum assistance, she still slipped off dramatically. Her hands couldn’t hold on for an instant. She was upset and I felt terrible; I had underestimated the weakness from those surgeries. We set a grip strength goal and worked tirelessly on it.
So I was startled when, one day, she started crying at the end of a workout. She said, “Mia, I don’t think my grip is getting any better…
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I often look for article topics via Google’s auto-complete technology. For example, if I type “Weightlifting and,” the results are:
Weightlifting and weight loss
Weightlifting and blood pressure
Weightlifting and cardio
It tells you what people are commonly searching for so you can address that need in your next piece. …
In my last Medium piece, I wrote about the importance of teaching people how to plan their own workouts. I suggested choosing all exercises from the bank of Squat Lunge Push Pull Hinge and Rotate. (I also included five sample exercises from each category.)
I got a text from my dear friend:
“OK, Mia, a question. Squat, lunge, push, pull, hinge, rotate. Do you mix them up in a single workout? Or do you devote one workout to each?”
Trying to teach fitness programming by text is like trying to teach astrophysics by text. I’m not saying exercise…
The number one reason — by far — that people don’t go to the gym is because they feel stupid when they’re there.
They think: A) that they will not know how to set equipment properly; B) that someone will see their workout and laugh; or C) that they’ll be doing stuff that’s way easier than what everyone else is doing.
In theory, these barriers are so simple to remove. A) ask; B) they won’t; C) no one cares. Boom, done. But it doesn’t feel simple in real life. It feels awful.
Fitness seems so basic. We were born with our bodies, and we innately know how to use them. Don’t you just move your body in some direction or another and become fit? How could movement be complicated? Even amoebas and Republicans know how to move. Isn’t moving the most intuitive thing we do? The answer is yes. Movement is beautifully innate.
I would have drunk toilet water before eating the salads of my youth. Iceberg lettuce, shredded carrot, sliced cucumber, whole cherry tomatoes, and some shitty ranch dressing in a glob on top. It was the salad that came on the side of a 16oz steak. At your neighbor’s house for every grilling party. The salad you got at fancy weddings.
I’d select the three greenest pieces of lettuce and chew on them like cud for a while before tossing the rest. Shredded carrot? Sure, who wouldn’t want to eat this ribboned bicycle tire? And there was no way you were…
I’m a chronic, enthusiastic, I-genuinely-love-it, name-my-first-child-ShakeWeight, type of exerciser. I chose fitness for a career, I participate in multiple adult sports leagues, and I’m competitive to the level of playing Who Can Unload The Dishwasher Faster? and No One Goes To Bed Until Someone Has Correctly Identified The Next Fifteen Songs That Play On The Radio.
In spite of this love of exercise, I’m famous for fitness procrastination. I find it nearly impossible to start a workout. If I’m supposed to train at 1pm, I’ll be face down in Bachelor Twitter at 1:20pm. Or I’ll sit in the staff office…