The Stuff of Fitness

Like any community, the fitness village works best when everybody shares. So we were pleased that many of you responded to last week's column about some of the more curious new products at a fitness trade show with your own reports about the stuff that makes your workouts more fun, effective or bearable. Your input is especially illuminating since here at Crew HQ we tend to use whatever is lying around -- paperweights, traffic cones, congresspersons in recess -- to get our exercise.

Bernard Tate of Manassas swears by kettlebells -- free weights that resemble cannonballs with handles on top. Despite their simplicity, they require caution: The design practically invites users to swing the weights around (for example, while raising it overhead for a shoulder exercise), increasing the chances of whacking oneself.

Alas, you still have to lift the things to get any benefit. Poke around on Google and you'll learn that kettlebells constitute a kind of underground Russophilic religion in the strength training world. Converts rave about how kettlebells build functional strength, lean muscle and explosive power. For basic information, visit http://www.kettlebell-training.com . For a view from the religion's orthodox wing, including photos of some pretty hard-core exercises, visit http://www.bodybuilding.com/fun/mahler78.htm .

Regular runner Jeremy Weiss of Arlington swears by (and undoubtedly sometimes at) his Garmin Forerunner , a wrist-worn GPS (global positioning system) device that measures pace, distance, rest intervals, calories burned and, in the advanced models, heart rate. The device lets you map and save routes and -- marking a seriously disturbing fitness trend -- includes an imaginary jogging partner who will let you know if you're behind (or ahead of) pace.

Like much GPS technology, the device often loses its signal in forests and, alas, you still have to actually run. (Sensing a trend here?) Basic model from $115; check it out at http://www.garmin.com/products/forerunner101/ .

Phil Kotiza of Oakton cited his Concept 2 rowing machine , which he credits with helping him shed 50 pounds in 15 months. (Note to those seeking motivation: He started with just five minutes per session.) Rowing machines provide an all-body workout with minimal impact on knees, hips, ankles and other joints. One caution: Use proper form to avoid back injury. (Technique and product information available at http://www.concept2.com ).

Think Kotiza couldn't have lost all that weight with one machine alone? You're right: He also uses an "old-fashioned 27-inch TV" that he parks in front of the rower.

Like your toys simple and portable? Kelly Metz of Derwood endorses the jump-rope.

"I used to travel to far-flung places for my job, some of which didn't even have hotels, let alone workout facilities," Metz told us, and then bragged about skipping twine in Congo, Indonesia, India, Barcelona, Berlin and Sao Paulo. We love the jump-rope because it offers a quick, efficient cardio workout with only one real caveat: If I am staying in the hotel room below you, take it outside.

Want to tell us more about, or ask about, your workout routines? Join us for our legendary, or at least occasionally amusing, live chat today 11:30 a.m. at http://www.washingtonpost.com .

-- John Briley

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Hamstrung -- or a Humbling Lesson in Healing

To: Readers.

From: Scribe.

Re: Long-awaited news. (No, I wasn't fired; so put away that confetti). After, oh, somewhere around three months, 15 days, 21 hours and 17 minutes, I hereby proclaim that my torn hamstring has healed.

It's not that I expect readers to give two figs about my health and fitness (except you, Mom), but there's wisdom here for anyone who's ever soldiered through an extended recovery or might one day (surprise!) stumble onto this road.

To recap: I suffered a hamstring tear (mid-grade 2, on the 1-to-3 scale) on May 13 at 10:43:22 a.m. (give or take half a second) while attempting to jump for a Frisbee. I could walk -- with pain -- but could do almost nothing else involving my leg. My doctor prescribed physical therapy and predicted a full recovery in around a month.

Early on, my treatment consisted mostly of electric stimulation, ultrasound, massage, stretching and icing. While that may sound almost pleasurable, before the injury I was exercising five to six days a week -- willingly -- and all those fancy words in the prior sentence translate, roughly, to "involuntary rest."

The first month was like quitting cigarettes or stupid puns: I was so exercise-addicted that I would instinctively don shorts, T-shirt and sneakers, and stand near my door, longingly peering out. Eventually I'd sit down, maybe try to read, but self-pity would progress first to irritability, then uncontainable impatience.

So I sought out long-avoided low-impact house projects -- fixing a hinge, sanding a window frame, cleaning a year's worth of dead bugs out of the light fixtures -- but even these seemingly innocuous tasks invariably engaged my hamstring.

Whenever I turned suddenly or stooped or contorted to reach some household fixture, my hammy would wince and the ghosts of Moving Crew columns past would swarm: "Muscles fibers contract instinctively to stabilize the body. . . . Muscles in the back balance those in the front. . . . Rest your injury or it will never heal, meathead."

For a while the physical therapy was on track: Within weeks I advanced from the "Everything hurts, even complaining" phase to "Hey, I only feel it when I move!" and then "I bet I can run again." (Too soon. Bad wager.) Expert reaction ranged from "Perhaps you tried to rush recovery" to "You're an idiot, Briley. Now sit down."

Reluctantly, I committed to rest. No asterisks, footnotes or qualifiers, just rest, augmented by a revised physical therapy program. (Even my physical therapist seemed baffled at the persistence of the injury.) When I absolutely needed some physical challenge, I did push-ups, sit-ups and even got into a pool a few times to swim laps using only my upper body.

But these were fleeting bursts and, at some point, I realized I had become a sedentary American. My after-work routine no longer involved staring longingly at my hoop shoes. I finally had insight into how millions of people live with minimal exercise.

My other revelation? Resting an injury really works. The low murmur of pain in my leg receded to a faint whisper, then nothing. Gingerly, my therapist worked me back into light leg lifts, some specialized exercises, then fast walking on a treadmill.

Now it's time to make good on my May pledge to enroll in yoga classes, to slowly re-strengthen my leg and work smarter to keep this 40-year-old body in tune. I'd like to say that I'm also going to let more Frisbees pass by unmolested, but I know myself better than that. ·

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