MSI Press Blog

When I first started Ninja training with Brittany, I noticed something odd. Every exercise seemed to build the front of my body—my quads, my hip flexors, my abs—but not the back. I didn’t have the vocabulary for it then, but I could feel myself becoming front‑loaded. My body felt like it was tipping forward into the world instead of standing upright inside itself. I pointed out to Brittany this sense of imbalance. She didn’t give me a lecture about anatomy. She simply handed me the antidotes: a few back‑body exercises that woke up muscles I didn’t even realize had gone quiet. Within a week, I felt balanced again. Upright. Integrated. Now, years later, I’m still balanced—but I can’t remember what unbalanced me or what she gave me to fix it. So, here’s my best reconstruction. Most of us spend decades living in our front bodies. We run forward, bend forward, carry forward, type forward, cook forward, clean forward, care forward. The hip flexors tighten, the quads take over, the chest roun...

  I’ve discovered a new emotion: “I’m-too-healthy-for-my-age” guilt. It sneaks up on you when you’re hauling trash cans uphill or doing a plank, and your friends are telling you about their knee replacements, shoulder surgeries, and stair-climbing woes. I don’t brag. I don’t compare. But I do sometimes feel like I should apologize for my bones behaving themselves. Then I remember: I earned these muscles the old-fashioned way — lifting kids, lifting grandkids, lifting groceries, lifting life. So here’s my new rule: Be grateful for what works. Be gentle with what doesn’t. And never apologize for being a Grandma Ninja. We all age differently. And that’s okay. Grandma’s Ninja Training Diary is the inspiring true story of a septuagenarian grandmother who dared to dream big—by training for American Ninja Warrior . Teaming up with her coach and trainer, she embarks on a three-year journey to build strength, resilience, flexibility, balance, and endurance—starting from scratch. While CO...

  When I lace up my shoes and start moving — whether it’s climbing, sweeping, or hauling groceries — I’m not just training my body. I’m training my brain to stay young. Scientists have found that exercise acts like fertilizer for the brain. It boosts blood flow, feeds neurons, and encourages the growth of new connections. Aerobic movement — walking, swimming, dancing — increases the size of the hippocampus, the part that handles memory and learning. Resistance training strengthens not only bones but also the networks that keep attention sharp and emotions steady. In short, movement tells the brain: you’re still needed. The Lancet calls this “neuroprotection through fitness.” It’s the body’s way of defending the brain against age-related decline. Long-term studies show that people who stay physically active have better cognitive function and more resilient brain structure as they age. The brain literally looks younger on scans — more volume, more connectivity, more spark. That’s why...

  I stand to get dressed every morning. Not because it’s easy. Not because it’s graceful. But because it keeps me alive in my own body. My left leg is fused to my hip. It doesn’t cooperate. So, the rest of me rises to the challenge. Standing to dress is my daily balance drill. Hopping up and down over curbs is my power training. Moving without holding onto anything is my quiet rebellion against decline. My late husband Carl used to sit to dress. He’d look for the cutout instead of the curb. That was his way — careful, steady, gentle. But it always worried me. I could see him aging faster than I was ready for. His habits were both a cause and a result of that slow “decay,” the kind you notice only when you love someone enough to watch closely. I tried to nudge him toward my ninja ways. He thought I was the crazy ninja lady. He wasn’t wrong. But he also wasn’t going to change. And then he died — sooner than I was ready for. I still think the way he moved through the world and the way...