I'm lucky to live between two girls in our neighborhood that are the best fun you could know. Their names are Monica and Shannon and just like everyone else, we all have busy lives with kids, work, etc. Often times, we'll take a break from the chaos and shoot out to get together.
The other night, we grabbed dinner and a movie. While we were out, Monica told us that she found a gym that had pretty cool classes if we wanted to check it out. My brain heard, "Gym" and "Classes" and immediately went into panic mode. I haven't been to an actual gym since before I had kids and our oldest is ten. TEN.
I knew that with the girls, it would be a ball no matter what though...so I agreed.
Getting ready for our first class left little to be desired. I had nothing to wear. At all. Visions of cute, perky twenty somethings in their adorable bright yoga pants ran through my mind as I combed through a pile of old sweatpants. Finding a halfway decent pair of black ones, I grabbed a black tank top and light sweatshirt. Throwing my hair in a ponytail, I dug through our sock drawer and found a pair of my husband's socks.
Heading outside, Monica was driving so Shannon and I jumped in. By the time we got to the gym, I was beyond nervous. Walking in, everyone was really nice and we were guided back to a big open room for classes.
People who were finishing up in the class ahead of us were grabbing their water bottles and walking out but they were dripping with sweat and had purple-red faces. (We're going to die)
I suddenly got that feeling you have when you're standing in line for a haunted house. You know, when you're about to go in but you're fighting your common sense for that last few minutes to force yourself to stay.
Slowing walking into the warm room with the smell of pain, Monica, Shannon and I looked around as everyone put out their yoga mats. crap. We had nothing. I'm wearing my husband's socks, how in the world would I have a yoga mat?
Looking to the side, there were extra mats lined up so we grabbed three and found our spots. People kept coming in and the room filled up quickly.
The instructor arrived and she was the cutest thing on Earth. She was tiny and petite and had a warm smile. She knew we were new so she spent a minute with us to explain the next hour of our class in Pilates. I've never taken a class in Pilates before and the more she talked, the more I knew I shouldn't be there.
When she finished, I looked around as everyone was in their socks or bare feet so I kicked my tennis shoes off, knowing I was doomed.
The instructor began by dimming the lights and playing some cool piano jazz music. It suddenly felt like we were a trendy New York City spot and I actually had a fleeting thought that I might like this.
As we sat on our mats, we began to stretch. First bending over to one foot, then the other. Looking at the girl to my left, I shook my head as sure enough, she was a young 20 something perfectly skinny thing, in her cute yoga pants. Great.
Feeling pain shoot through the back of my legs, we continued to stretch towards our toes. The instructor altered the moves and positions so that balance and strength became involved. I began to feel parts of my body that I forgot existed. My arms, back, calves...everything began to stretch and burn.
After what seemed like hours, the instructor calmly said, "Okay, let's get started." STARTED?! We haven't STARTED?
Looking at the clock across the room, we had only been at it for ten minutes.
For the next 40 minutes, we were put into positions, stretches, moves and repetitions that were at times unnatural. As I lied on my back and tried to scissor kick my right leg over my head and hold it while keeping my left foot down and pointed, I suddenly had a whole new appreciation for strippers. How can they do this stuff on a pole when I can't even do it on the floor?
It was an hour of hell. Screw the cool jazz music and yoga mats. For a minute I thought I was going into labor for the fifth time. From my neck to my feet, every muscle screamed.
At the very end, the instructor had us lie on our backs with our eyes closed to relax. Strangely enough, my body felt better. I didn't have the tightness that I've come to know and everything felt weak and strong at the same time. It was actually good.
With the class over, Shannon and Monica and I gave each other a smile and headed out. As we made it back to our homes, I crawled out of the car. "Beatty!" Monica laughed as I turned around. And right there, on the right side of my rear was a hole in my old sad pants. I had literally worn through them from the workout. Yes, I actually worked my butt off.
As for now, it looks like I'll have to go get some cute socks and pants if I'm ever going to go back. I don't know what class we would take the next time. Zumba or maybe kick boxing, yoga...who knows.
I do know one thing for sure though. If I only had one hour left to live, I'd spend that hour in a Pilates class...because it's the one place I know, that the hour would feel like an eternity.
Please CLICK below to VOTE! Thank You!
The other night, we grabbed dinner and a movie. While we were out, Monica told us that she found a gym that had pretty cool classes if we wanted to check it out. My brain heard, "Gym" and "Classes" and immediately went into panic mode. I haven't been to an actual gym since before I had kids and our oldest is ten. TEN.
I knew that with the girls, it would be a ball no matter what though...so I agreed.
Getting ready for our first class left little to be desired. I had nothing to wear. At all. Visions of cute, perky twenty somethings in their adorable bright yoga pants ran through my mind as I combed through a pile of old sweatpants. Finding a halfway decent pair of black ones, I grabbed a black tank top and light sweatshirt. Throwing my hair in a ponytail, I dug through our sock drawer and found a pair of my husband's socks.
Heading outside, Monica was driving so Shannon and I jumped in. By the time we got to the gym, I was beyond nervous. Walking in, everyone was really nice and we were guided back to a big open room for classes.
People who were finishing up in the class ahead of us were grabbing their water bottles and walking out but they were dripping with sweat and had purple-red faces. (We're going to die)
I suddenly got that feeling you have when you're standing in line for a haunted house. You know, when you're about to go in but you're fighting your common sense for that last few minutes to force yourself to stay.
Slowing walking into the warm room with the smell of pain, Monica, Shannon and I looked around as everyone put out their yoga mats. crap. We had nothing. I'm wearing my husband's socks, how in the world would I have a yoga mat?
Looking to the side, there were extra mats lined up so we grabbed three and found our spots. People kept coming in and the room filled up quickly.
The instructor arrived and she was the cutest thing on Earth. She was tiny and petite and had a warm smile. She knew we were new so she spent a minute with us to explain the next hour of our class in Pilates. I've never taken a class in Pilates before and the more she talked, the more I knew I shouldn't be there.
When she finished, I looked around as everyone was in their socks or bare feet so I kicked my tennis shoes off, knowing I was doomed.
The instructor began by dimming the lights and playing some cool piano jazz music. It suddenly felt like we were a trendy New York City spot and I actually had a fleeting thought that I might like this.
As we sat on our mats, we began to stretch. First bending over to one foot, then the other. Looking at the girl to my left, I shook my head as sure enough, she was a young 20 something perfectly skinny thing, in her cute yoga pants. Great.
Feeling pain shoot through the back of my legs, we continued to stretch towards our toes. The instructor altered the moves and positions so that balance and strength became involved. I began to feel parts of my body that I forgot existed. My arms, back, calves...everything began to stretch and burn.
After what seemed like hours, the instructor calmly said, "Okay, let's get started." STARTED?! We haven't STARTED?
Looking at the clock across the room, we had only been at it for ten minutes.
For the next 40 minutes, we were put into positions, stretches, moves and repetitions that were at times unnatural. As I lied on my back and tried to scissor kick my right leg over my head and hold it while keeping my left foot down and pointed, I suddenly had a whole new appreciation for strippers. How can they do this stuff on a pole when I can't even do it on the floor?
It was an hour of hell. Screw the cool jazz music and yoga mats. For a minute I thought I was going into labor for the fifth time. From my neck to my feet, every muscle screamed.
At the very end, the instructor had us lie on our backs with our eyes closed to relax. Strangely enough, my body felt better. I didn't have the tightness that I've come to know and everything felt weak and strong at the same time. It was actually good.
With the class over, Shannon and Monica and I gave each other a smile and headed out. As we made it back to our homes, I crawled out of the car. "Beatty!" Monica laughed as I turned around. And right there, on the right side of my rear was a hole in my old sad pants. I had literally worn through them from the workout. Yes, I actually worked my butt off.
As for now, it looks like I'll have to go get some cute socks and pants if I'm ever going to go back. I don't know what class we would take the next time. Zumba or maybe kick boxing, yoga...who knows.
I do know one thing for sure though. If I only had one hour left to live, I'd spend that hour in a Pilates class...because it's the one place I know, that the hour would feel like an eternity.
Please CLICK below to VOTE! Thank You!
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