Ice Foot.

Ice Foot.

A friend invited me to meet her with my kids at the gymnastics gym for "open gym" yesterday. My kids needed to exude some energy so 15 minutes later, I was out the door, kids in tow.

I was excited for my kids as I took off their shoes and socks and they looked wide-eyes in anticipation at the rock climbing wall, padded obstacle course, trampoline, and of course, the foam pit.

Then it happened. One of the instructors said to me, with way too much nonchalance for my reaction, "Adults are allowed to play on all the equipment too."

I held back for a bit. I bounced with my kids on the trampoline. I hung on the rings. I walked on the balance beam. But two things were calling me. The open spring floor and the climbing rope/foam pit.

I haven't done a roundoff backhandspring since my cheerleading days and even then, it wasn't all that pretty. But I have been dreaming of the chance to try it again on a spring floor for years. So I did it. Twice. And landed on my feet, (thank you, thank you), which was my only goal.

Up next: Climbing rope and foam pit.

I waited in line with the 6-year olds for my turn on the rope. I was pretty sure my weak arms would merit me, at most, two hefts up before I plunged in the soft foam below. But what I had forgotten was the techique involved of using your lower body as well. When those elementary school contest-winning skills came back to me, I was up the rope in no time.

Then came the fall into the soft foam below.

. . .Or the not so soft foam. Seems I weigh a BIT more than the 8-year old I saw do this before me and more weight=more momentum=more force=sprained ankle.

The doctor put it in a splint and I'm just hoping it heals in time for me to at least jog the 5K in two weeks I've paid for.

But I'm told the fall was really cool looking and I totally showed up those other 6-year olds.