MSI Press Blog

  I love the demands of daily living — they keep me trained-fit when I cannot make the gym. Every task is a kata, every chore a drill. Picking up pebbles from four Fresh Breeze litter boxes → good for 40–50 squats Cleaning out the dishwasher → a couple dozen bend-and-lifts Sweeping the floor → upper body activity, broom as staff practice Cat vomit on the floor → down on my knees, scrub-scrub, arms at work Bringing in cat litter (38-pound boxes, two at a time, up 17 stairs) → farmer’s carry with elevation — grip, biceps, glutes, and cardio all in play  Being jungle gym for the 3-year-old little tyke → lifting up and over my head, down and around — ah, finally, some tricep action Getting dressed → balance drill: one leg for pants until topple, then switch — 40–50 seconds per leg Phone ring in the middle of it all → sprint drill: dash to the other room, cardio, heart rate spike Break time — Russian twists → ah, finally, some core love: obliques firing, torso rotation, balanc...

Today’s mission: accompany my daughter to a new doctor’s appointment. I sat quietly, letting her self-advocate—because that’s what strong women do. I chimed in here and there with family history, but mostly, I was the silent sentinel beside her. Then came the intake question: “Is your mother still alive?” Excuse me? I look dead?? Was I too serene?  Did my quiet presence read as ghostly? Did I seem soporific? My daughter laughed. “She’s sitting right here beside me.” The assistant turned crimson. I straightened up, punched the air, and offered to do jumping jacks to prove my vitality. She stammered, “I’m so sorry—I thought you were sisters.” Well then. Grandma Ninja: 75. Daughter: 49. Apparently, we’re aging in formation. Message of the day: Let your daughters speak. Let your silence speak. And when needed—let your vitality kick . Also: work out. At any age. Dick Van Dyke is 100 and still works out at the gym three times a week. If he can do it, so can Grandma N...

  They say 65 is the geriatric threshold. I say: thresholds are for doorways, not identities. I didn’t suddenly become fragile when Medicare kicked in. Yes, I have osteopenia—thanks in part to years of “normal” omeprazole doses before anyone warned me it was quietly eating my bones. But I still climb ladders, carry cats, and troubleshoot household systems faster than most twenty-somethings. My bone scan may whisper caution, but my life shouts resilience. So, if “geriatric” means I qualify for discounts and confuse algorithms—fine. But don’t expect me to sit still, wear beige, or fade quietly. This Ninja has decades of stealth left—and a few choice words for the formulary. Grandma’s Ninja Training Diary  is the inspiring true story of a septuagenarian grandmother who dares to dream big—by training for  American Ninja Warrior . Teaming up with coach and trainer Brittany Renz, she embarks on a three-year journey to build strength, resilience, flexibility, balance, and end...

  They say aging is about loss. I say it’s about leverage. At 75, I’m not building bone like I used to—but I’m building strength, balance, and resilience. My doctor doesn’t give me meds to grow bone mass. He gives me ones that make my bones less likely to break if I fall. That’s not a compromise—it’s a strategy. Because this ninja doesn’t plan to fall. She plans to land. I take calcium. I lift weights. I run like I’m chasing my 20s. I’ve reduced my omeprazole to a maintenance dose, because I know it can cause bone resorption. I listen to my body, and I advocate for it. I don’t ask for perfection—I ask for protection. My bones may not be textbook dense, but they’re smart. They’ve carried me through childbirth, Army drills, caregiving, and cardio. They’ve adapted to a body that doesn’t sweat, a heart that recovers in 30 seconds, and a life that never slows down. So no, I’m not fragile. I’m forged. Every step, every sprint, every choice—bone by bone, I’ve built a life that holds....