Good morning and welcome to Summit Up, the world’s only daily column that smells like Ben Gay.
We’re sitting here in our Summit Up locker room in the midst of a stink-mint fog, trying to unkink those knots in our backs. See, every Thursday, we work our column-writing muscles at every exercise class in the county, which keeps us in shape and leaves us sore on Fridays.
So, we threw out the cigarettes and opened the calendar and started our Thursday with the free yoga class in Dillon. At 9 a.m., after an hour of tabletop stretches and new age music, we threw down a shot of wheat germ and headed over to Summit Pilates in Breckenridge. There, the wheat germ kicked in and we started jiving with our master teacher about the pelvic-stabilization tactics of solid pilates machinery.
Soon enough, we found a bottle of nutrient-rich water and slammed that in the ol’ Summit Up locker room.
We kept asking the Summit Up gods to provide us with a shower and hot tub and, last Christmas, they gave us a wooden bench in the garage.
That’s why we got them dirty socks for Boss’ Day.
After a gulp and a stretch, we took our sweat-stained bodies over to the parent/toddler play group in Dillon. We knew how hard children can be to look after, so we thought herding the youthful cherubs away from sharp objects and electronics could make for a good workout.
Around noon, we left the children loose among the hazards and headed to Breckenridge, where we replaced our old sweatbands with fresh ones and helped the Tadasana Yoga class warm up. We shared a giggle about the dangerous children, which loosened one fellow up enough to start bashing pilates.
“It’s a corporate exercise scam,” he said. “I don’t need a special machine to help me be healthy.”
“Nay,” we argued back. “Let the pilates followers do what they wish. It’s America. We have the right to exercise freely.”
Then, we freaked when we looked at the clock. We had to be in Silverthorne for the Free Spirit Yoga class at 1 p.m., and we missed those cool vibes of the spiritually clean.
After our final yoga class and a short jog to Farmer’s Korner, we cooled down by performing artful cannonballs at the Masters Swim at Summit High School at 6:30 p.m. All were impressed with the volume of water we displaced, but, just as they started chanting “encore, encore,” we dried off and snuck down the hall to Summit Concert Band practice, where we ping the triangle with the best of them.
If you can play anything on the triangle with your legs behind your head, let us know at
email@example.com, fax at (970) 668-0755 or leave us your best rendition at (970) 668-3998, ext. 237.
We’re out sneaking a smoke …
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