Wow, when Backjoy said they were out to, “Change Your Posture. Change Your Life.” they weren’t kidding.
It’s a well-crafted phrase that sums up Backjoy’s promises, likely crafted by someone who makes more than I do, which is kind of fair considering all I ever come up with are lame puns and even lamer copy. But for the love of postures and lives improved around the world, someone please find this person and give him or her a Pulitzer or maybe a new crystal ball, because this is prophetic.
And to think, if I didn’t suffer through a lumbar strain, I wouldn’t have known about this sorcery. All the decisions I’ve made in life have led me towards owning a Backjoy, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
No, I’m not talking about the punctuation mark—that one, I’m already quite fond of, following long and run-on sentences. By periods, I mean exactly what you’re thinking: That rather sexist phenomenon that occurs once a month (give or take) as a gory form of punishment for not having buns in the oven.
That period.
And yes, I did just say I had my best one ever. (Are you reading this, SunStar? My period deserves a Best of Cebu award.)
Truth be told, that’s a statement I never imagined myself making at all. As much as that one Kim Chiu commercial tried to convince me to “Have a happy period!”, I never viewed those monthly visits as pleasant—tolerable, sure, if I don’t get monster cramps along with them. They were inconvenient at most, considering the mess they left (“Did you murder anybody today?” “No, I’m just on my period.”). Don’t even get me started on the smell.
So how is it that, at the ripe ol’ age of 27 and having dealt with periods monthly for the past 15 years, I’m now suddenly changing my tune about my female body functions? Ladies and gentlemen who have not clicked away from this post so far, I introduce to you my new best friend, Lena.
It’s been a while since I talked about anything on here, let alone write about fitness (In Memoriam: The Manuelle’s Crossfit Career, 2015-2016). I was so obsessed about that part of my life that it seemed impossible for me to ever stop, but all it took was to miss one session, which turned into a week, then a month, and here we are, two years and 20 pounds later. Holy f*cking sh*t, self, you’ve really let yourself go.
I could go easy on myself and say that a lot happened in that time frame: I left my job (basically ending a five-year career in the media industry), dove headfirst into a new business venture and feeling my way around, oh and I got a high maintenance (but handsome!) doggo, among many other things. But they’re not really excuses—not when I managed to find the energy and time before. If I was able to do it then, why not now?
Funny enough, it was my dog who reignited my interest in going back to working out. Look, he’s a chow-chow, and they’re well-known to be the laziest dogs around these days, probably as retribution to the canine universe for making them war dogs in historical China. But my dog, my chow-chow somehow managed to complete a 1K run and all for charity. Gryffin = 2; Patty = 0. If that mindset won’t make anyone want to step up their game, I don’t know what will.
A week ago, Gryffin and I—along with my dog’s best friend Antonio Java of Rider’s Block—joined Marco Polo Plaza Cebu‘s Run for ERUF 2018. It’s an annual fun run they hold as a celebration of their anniversary, as well as to benefit the Emergency Rescue Unit Foundation. I’ve known about this event for years, but never participated in any because I actually hate running, even at the peak of my fitness journey. But who could resist when there’s a special dog category involved? So, here we are, all in full GoPro Hero5 Session glory.
Confession time: In a fit of sheer madness, I went and joined The Crossfit Open.
When I signed up, I was doing Crossfit at Crossfit Subtero half-seriously for only about three months. While I’ve made some progress in that short amount of time, I was still hindered by lack of strength and mobility problems, both of which made me question my judgment about the decision to join. But alas, the $10 fee and my pride were already on the line, so as a last-minute self-preservation tactic, I kept my involvement under wraps except for a few good friends. “Whoa, seriously? You’re a total badass!” said one, sounding (I assume) impressed. “Don’t you think it’s a bit too soon?” said another, who (I assume) saw through my bravado.
