As a child I had a strange phobia: what to do shower. Do not think that I wanted to go around smelling like a sandwich, at all! Rather, I refused to wash if immersed in a tub of warm water with a tremendous amount of foam produced from scented soaps (all the better when colored, or the box-shaped Disney Little Mermaid). I could also spend hours in the bath, until my fingertips wrinkled because for too long immersed in a hypertonic solution, begging for mercy, or the water became cold and was forced out, invoking the help of my mother (we also read in the bathtub). Noises and screams were reserved instead of trying to slip in the shower: I was afraid before to see the horror film IT without a rational reason. It was then that my mom thought it well to get this off fear, and, using a drastic remedy as he had done with the pacifier (I rubbed a little mouse told me that we had done over the pee: myself, though a few months, I was already so fussy that I left immediately), he thought cut off the head of the bull enrolling in a course of swimming . Yes, despite my rabies, the lovely age of 3 years, I found myself thrown into a tank too big and too tall for my physique, complete with obligatory shower at the end of the course. The found of my mother, not without obvious trauma, it worked: not only overcame my aversion to the shower (which even now I prefer to swim in the bathtub), but that these are also the beginning of a lasting sporting career. After teaching us to do the "star" and the "corpse" in the water (I hated the star, despite the macabre name of the other aquatic exercise), the instructor threw us into deep water, arming stick to that attack us when we presented the difficulties (of movement and breathing, I presume). For 7 years I did the tanks with 11 kids, and I was glad of that dual commitment weekly, which includes the use of a headset of a rigid plastic so inelastic as to weep with grief when, at the time of placement or removal from the skull, came into contact with the scalp. My mom had made for my sport who say children do so well as the physical form (as no, now I find myself swimming through the shoulders of a rugby player with uniform and two calves like two balloons) , my father was well pleased, except when he had to put up with the sticky and moist heat of the building, screaming kids and all that involved the sport. At 9 years old began to make proposals on competitive swimming : knowing what I would have committed and not wanting to spend my life, in fact, in a swimming pool, declined the offer, and continued to make no claim on bath tubs agonism. At 10 years, this situation began to close Starmie: above all, I could not bear that feeling of loneliness that involves swimming. When you swim there is only you and the tank (or you and the sea, or you and the river, etc...) I wanted to interact, to talk and not gasping, short of a team game . And so, without even having learned to do the somersault under water (they are still incapable), in the wake of the cartoon Mila & Shiro much in vogue during those years, I threw myself headlong into volleyball. My relationship with volleyball and lasted 8 years. 8 years of lots of interregional transfers that were losing whole days, grueling workouts 4 times a week (I was not even in Serie A or in a squadron important, that is) that I had to attend to power, often crippled by the referee of last name turn, usually one worse than the various coaches, cheering stadium, pressure, sweat, but also recognition in case of victory, laughter, adrenaline and feeling like a river to dominate the world after a point scored. I had the central role: I could use my height to crush powerful and very solid walls. They were good years, sometimes I miss just the game of volleyball, but have been much more the sacrifices I had to do, especially when they called me to play games in categories higher than mine. Two games a week, destructive training, so many demands and expectations that were not to be disappointed, and the greatest teammates looked down or never passed the ball. When, in the second grammar school, the study load was becoming overly impractical and my enthusiasm for the sport was also significantly decreased, I decided to leave the team. So as not to remain in panciolle however, I enrolled in a course of fit-boxing in the gym, I practiced for a year. It was certainly good to download stress and nervousness, but I was in poor condition reduced his knuckles (although I used protection strips) and my classmates were all over 30. I mean, of skipping a year, and right hooks to the rhythm of songs from that insistent rhythms, self-defense definitely improved and also stopped the fit-boxing. Accomplice of choice, also the entrance to the last year of high school with final exams looming and a sharp contempt and disgust matured to the environment of the gym. Filled balloons attached with physical, anorexic girls who is exhausted on the exercise bike, talk about how good the meat and what are good doses proteins in industrial, low ceilings that gave a sense of oppression, the smell is certainly not the best when I arrived in late afternoon, the obligation always be pulled / loaded / clean and my teacher that I ever dished up as a companion bag as I was unable to make up deficiencies which I own. After 16 years of uninterrupted sport, a vacuum: no yoga, no gym, no capoeira or pilates . However, as I am aware of the importance of regular exercise, I try to lead a life in any case active and quite busy; when I can, I go walking in the desolate countryside surrounding my home (I read that walking at a speed enough to support and improve even a race). And then there are always ditness and mouse clicks : they require little effort and do not force even forced to shower!
Ideal before or after a sporting activity, are the bars that I propose today. The recipe comes from the blog Meringues with cream (I made the changes, however, the choice of ingredients), and is really good: They're great for breakfast or snack, or as a break-hungry. Even for those who are not sports;)
cereal bars and dried fruit
Ingredients
80 g brown sugar 80 g acacia honey
90 g butter 150 g of rice and wheat flakes *
50 g raisins 30 g chopped hazelnuts
50 g sunflower seeds
70 g sesame seeds 1 pinch of salt Ingredients
In a small saucepan, melt the butter with the honey and sugar, stirring constantly until the sugar has dissolved. In a large bowl mix cereal, raisins soaked in warm water made earlier, the hazelnuts and sesame seeds, adding a pinch of salt. Combine in bowl also made of butter, sugar and honey and mix well. Pour into a roasting pan lined with parchment paper and bake the mixture for 35 minutes in preheated oven at 180 degrees. Allow to cool completely, then cut the fingers of the form chosen. Are kept locked in a tin box too long, can be coated with aluminum foil and bring them to where we want to munch.
* you can also choose to put chopped pistachios, dried coconut or granola, the important thing is that the weight of cereals and dried fruit is always about 350 g, can be added, if desired, a pinch of cinnamon
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