A girlfriend is visiting and staying with us this week, and she got me motivated about 24 Hour Fitness. You know, the gym I have been a member of for the past 4 years, and about that many visits..
I lie, I used to go a lot. When I was single, my Friday AND Saturday nights were spent in the gym. I love that you can hang out there until 3-4 am. If I was gonna be a loser, I was going to be a fit loser. Enter Jesse, and cooking dinners at home.
I can’t even *really* blame Jesse, except that, if I got up at 2am to run amok at the gym he would drop kick me back into bed. He has a gallstone thing, so everything he eats must be low fat. He does, however, consume stupid amounts of bread, so may be it *is* his fault. Unlike him, a loaf of French bread RUINS me. But anyway.
Yesterday, having looked up class schedules of the nearest 24 Hours, I picked a PilatesFusion class at Newport Coast. I’ve heard about Pilates. I have no idea how some stretching would make one fit, but I can’t run, so I may as well start slow. I arrived, and went to get my own mat, unlike all the ladies who showed up with their own. I felt unprepared, and inspected my mat for bugs. All clear. I HAVE a mat at home, though, still safe and its packaging, so this cheered me up. Next time, I too, will have my very own mat. Ha. (Thanks, Jesse’s sister!)
They started to stretch as the instructor was setting up, but it seemed redundant to stretch before stretch exercises, so I inspected my mat again, and considered getting a different color. I also noticed I was the only one not clad in pretty leggings and fitted tank top. My gym outfits scream “I just got done peeling potatoes”, but it’s not really noticeable, to me, anyway, until I find myself surrounded by dressed up gym nymphs. Whatever.
The instructor came and introduced some breathing techniques. I considered leaving. But I had placed myself in a corner, where nobody would see me, and now it would be awkward, to walk across all these dressed up people, with my gym-issued mat, too-tight sweatpants, and a loose, but shrunken too short semi white T-shirt that at some point, very long ago, definitely before I washed it with some red socks, said “Nike Soccer”. I didn’t think my outfit through, and I’m pretty sure there were panty lines. I had to stay put.
And then came the ‘stretching’. I realized, that everybody else but me can put their ankles ridiculously close to their ears. I checked my posture, and wiggled around, but it was certain. I can barely touch my toes. I definitely can’t rest my head on the floor between my knees. There’s a chance I may never sit right again, having tried it.
There were leg raises, and my pants fell back to reveal my mismatched socks. I was a little horrified. I looked in the mirror, and amid gracefully scissoring legs, there was a pair twitching sweatpant frog legs. I realized the importance of breathing. Sometimes, you just forget. Like, when you concentrate on doing circles with a leg while your hips are off the ground for an unnaturally long time.
I finished every exercise earlier than everybody else. By simply laying back down. A plank? No thanks. Give me 4 more? I think not. The first 2 were a stretch. The instructor looked at me gently and with pity. I ended up leaving 15 minutes early. It was too much, and while we were doing floor exercises, at least there was the option of collapsing and ‘practicing breathing’ (trying to control panting). But it looked awkward to keep laying down during stand up stuff, so I had to cut my losses.
This morning, my legs hurt. My stomach muscles are sore. I am pleased. I will stretch at home, religiously all this week, and give it a go again, next Monday, with my very own purple mat in tow.