When I was 13 years old, I started working out with my mother. I should qualify that statement. When I was 13 years old, my mom had the rarest of all pleasures -- waking me, a surly youth, to take me for a jog before school.
My mom was (and is, in fact) my number one champion (sorry dad). She thinks I'm beautiful no matter what. This, at the age of 13, was certainly saying something, because I was no prize. I'd also like to make it clear that if I'd kept silent, my mom would never had made me run in the mornings. That wasn't her style. But when I went to her, teary-eyed, because I thought I was "fat" (ludicrous! I was a child!), she came up with a solution.