Precerpt from Grandma's Ninja Training Diary: Downsizing without Downgrading (Leaver & Renz)
Entry: Downsizing Without Downgrading
When I started out seven years ago with the wild and slightly rebellious goal of training for American Ninja Warrior, I went all in. I joined the most advanced local gym. I signed up for yoga classes. I even took on rock climbing training at a gym down in Santa Cruz. And twice a week, I worked with Brittany — yes, that Brittany, the one co-writing this book with me. For three years, we trained with focus and fire. I got stronger. I got leaner. I lost some work to make time. But I gained hope.
Then — WHAM! — COVID hit. The gym closed. Brittany, like so many, had to find a new source of income. She built a successful salon business, and when the gym reopened, she had moved on. And yoga? Gone. No more yoga classes at the gym. Rock climbing in Santa Cruz? No longer feasible in a pandemic world, especially with vulnerable family members to protect.
I stayed with the gym for a while — big gym, big cost — but it wasn’t the same. Trainer after trainer came and went. The place had become a revolving door of staff, and I couldn’t build momentum with anyone.
But even that chapter came to a screeching halt when — WHAM again — my husband Carl fell. The ER visit led to a heartbreaking diagnosis: five advanced cancers. In a matter of days, we were thrown into the final chapter of his life. He died just over five months later.
During that time, there was no gym. No formal training. Just the physically demanding, emotionally relentless job of caregiving. I lifted him, turned him, steadied him. I ran errands. I took over his chores — the trash, the plants, the daily household rhythm. I moved, every day. Not with dumbbells or machines, but with love and necessity.
Fortunately, Brittany had helped me prepare for less structured times. I had built a no-frills home gym: two picnic benches covered with a blanket for dumbbell rows and tricep dips; low furniture for bodyweight exercises; a doorway pull-up bar with resistance straps; a trusty elliptical machine Carl had once salvaged and repaired for me; and a set of Bowflex adjustable dumbbells — my one real investment. I had what I needed. What I didn’t have anymore was time — or, increasingly, money.
When Carl died, everything changed again. I was now solely responsible for the full-time care of my two disabled adult children at home. Time became even scarcer, and money tighter. I could no longer make it to Santa Cruz for climbing. I couldn’t justify the high gym membership. So, I did what Ninjas do best — I adapted.
I downsized to the local YMCA — a fraction of the cost — but with limited hours and a schedule that rarely matched the unpredictability of life with kids in and out of hospitals or on home healthcare.
And eventually, I gave up the idea of depending on any external gym. I didn’t quit. I pivoted.
Aside from an occasional hour or two at the Y, I now train exclusively at home. But here’s what I’ve discovered: I may have downsized in terms of cost and complexity — but I didn’t downgrade the quality of my workouts.
Our long, steep driveway hill is better than any treadmill for cardio. I run it, walk it, skip it, sometimes sprint it. Taking the heavy trash bins down and up again builds upper body strength. I use chairs and tables for dips and stretches. I plank, wall-sit, do isometrics, sit-ups, pushups, pull-ups — all at home. I move furniture. I lift boxes. I wrestle with the neighbor’s toddlers and teach them how to tumble and climb. It’s all functional strength, and it keeps me fit.
And yes, I still have those bars, bells, bands, bosu ball, straps, and the elliptical. I may have grey hair, but I’m still the strongest person in our building. I carry the trash when the thirty-somethings can’t. And when I do make it to the Y, I can still leg press 200–300 pounds, and work most of the upper body machines at 70–100 pounds. Not bad for someone who trains at home with a picnic bench and a pair of dumbbells.
The cost is a fraction of what it once was. But the strength? The spirit? The results?
Still Ninja-worthy.
I downsized — but I did not downgrade.
For more posts about/from Grandma's Ninja Training Diary, click HERE.
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