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When I say I’m addicted to the kettlebell, I’m not kidding. I had to quit training for a while recently after a surgery and found myself unable to sleep at night. And I’m not alone—people fall in love with their bells. They name them, get tattoos of them and take them everywhere.
Seeking something other than aerobics and traditional fitness, Holly Curtis was introduced to the dance form of Nia in 1993 while doing graduate work in kinesiology at the University of Texas. Now she is one of 15 Nia trainers worldwide. She travels every month to conduct trainings of the 25-year-old movement practice. Holly has trained nearly all of the Nia teachers in Santa Fe and Albuquerque.
I decided maybe a few, simple exercises that relied only on my own body and one other thing, usually the floor, might be worth a shot. I’ve seen this used effectively in Kung fu movies when someone has to prepare for a big battle. Usually, the situation is that a daring lone wolf, who has tried to leave behind a life of violence, is called upon one last time to face down a horde of powerful foes in the name of honor.
Terrified, I gave away the few balls that landed at my feet and was soon relegated to goalie, but over the course of that summer (and the ensuing 20 years) I learned what it meant to take a 30-yard cross on the chest, to scrap, to shoot with power, to slide tackle—to play, as they say, with “cojones.”
My last week in Santa Fe, my last days to climb at White Rock and Diablo Canyon, mountain bike the Dale Ball trails, camp in the middle of Pecos Wilderness, and my friend Amber suggested we coat ourselves in therapeutic mud and soak in an iron-rich spring? Unbelievable…