On July 7, the Trust for America’s Health—a nonprofit dedicated to improving community health around the country—released a report titled “F as in Fat: How Obesity Threatens America’s Future 2011.” The findings are disappointing, if not particularly shocking: Across the nation, obesity rates continue to balloon out of control.

Lately, I’ve been longing for organized sports—the kind I played in grade school. Maybe it’s an urge that comes from seeing athletes around town gear up for the fall season by running i

Perspiratory activities aren’t the only subjects of this year’s Sweat issue. Another type of sweat, that of anxiety and psychological distress, can affect one’s health—this time for the worse

There are gyms all over Santa Fe at which you can swing a kettlebell, do squats until your butt falls off, or even watch Cake Boss while monitoring your calories burned. But if you want to join a basketball team or learn how to perfectly execute the butterfly, it may be time to go back to school—the community college, that is.

It’s not Jan. 1, but prepare to make resolutions.

 You wake up in a flurry of expletives at 5:38 am, cursing your iPhone alarm for being so damned lovely and inaudible. If you’d gotten up at 5:11, as you’d intended, you’d have tim

Despite the name of SFR’s annual fitness guide, the stories in this issue aren’t geared at extreme perspiration. Well, at least, not entirely.

As a child, I was often unceremoniously deposited at the Railyard Performance Center on Saturday mornings, where I impatiently awaited my father and the end of African dance class. In those days, he still danced instead of drummed. Also in those days, the center was an unassuming box space with uncomfortable floors and a low ceiling, situated behind Tomasita’s in the Railyard proper.

In 1998, Angela Simmerman Sierra was in a devastating car crash. Thought dead, she was resuscitated and brought to a Colombian emergency room where, after four days, doctors decided her wounds were too severe to be mended and sent her home to die among her family.

Last spring, my brother announced his impending Long Island nuptials, and I knew something had to be done—something radical. All my life, I’d noted events in the future and told myself I’d get in shape by the time they rolled around, and had always failed miserably.