The blog in which I try a pilates class.

Well, that didn't go so badly.  Never mind.  It was worse than terrible.  I was thinking that I have attended probably six to eight group exercise classes since starting the YMCA a year ago this month, and surely one was worse.  Then I thought some more on it, and guess what...  Nope.  The only way the pilates class could have been worse?
1.loss of limb
2.loss of sight
3.loss of oxygen
3.loss of a job
4.loss of memory
5.loss of my dog
I mean, really now!  First of all, you have to know, that while I was trying to believe I could do this, my  mind really had no idea what the word pilates means.  I looked it up.

Pilates, verb meaning the act of trying to attach your belly button to your back.

I might be paraphrasing, but let me set the tone for you.  There are no lights on in the room.  You take your shoes off.  (I felt like the class was trying to "take advantage of me."  wink wink)  Then, you grab a big ball.  (Geoff, get your mind out of the gutter.)  (And now stop giggling.)  Then, you grab a mat, and a flimsy mat to put over that, for comfort.  I don't think it would have mattered if I were on a fire pit of coal, nothing about this workout was "comfortable."

I suppose I could have gotten out of my pajamas for the class, but I really thought this would be a bunch of downward dog type work.  And had I known my shoes were coming off.... 

The instructor was late.  (Thank G-d!)  One of my friends came with me for moral support.  And by "moral support," I mean, make me laugh so that I was crying down my leg within the first ten minutes.  She was trying to get positioned up on her ball, and out of the corner of my eye, I see her ball go one way, and her land on the ground.  I was nervous, and that always makes me laugh more, but as soon as I laughed till' I peed, that was the end of the story.  I am pretty sure had the instructor asked me to do kegels, I would have been fine.  Clearly, that is a lonely girl exercise, therefore, I forgot to employ that muscle, and every other muscle she asked me to utilize was on a break for most of the class time.  Another friend, one of the two main aquatic directors, decided to jump in with me since I told her how nervous I was.  She is way more fit than I am, therefore, you could see it was a cake walk for her.  It was great having those two with me, but even Brenda, the aquatics/gymnastics instructor said that she was excited to get a good workout since Irene was teaching the class.  (I will move on to calling her  "the nicest Nazi you will ever meet.")  She is not really a Nazi.  That is harsh.  However, she is truly a sweet person that asks too much of me and my body when in a class.  She is like Jillian Michaels on Prozac.  She will get you inspired and motivated, but she can't do the workout for you.   However, she referred to focusing on my belly button and my back often, and each time, I thought of Scarlett's advice from earlier.

So, while it was a low light, instructor speaking in a low, calming voice, what she was asking of us to do with our bodies was akin to asking me to lick the back of my knees.  Speaking of which... I got this message from a friend right before I left.

Apparently, I am way more skilled with my tongue than any other muscle in my entire body.  That should not surprise those that know me well.  However, even my neighbor-friend recognized that this was not going to go well.  And she knows that I just might run after her car if there were, in fact, a baked good affixed to her bumper.  I love you Scarlett.  May I use this in the blog?  It doesn't matter, since I think I just did.  Sorry 'bout that.

While I frustrated myself for about thirty five minutes, I mean, tried to do what the instructor was telling us to do, I was only able to do about 1/3 of each exercise, and then, only modified versions of each exercise.  If you know me, you know I do things one hundred and ten percent, or not at all.  I walked out of the class early- shocker.  I went upstairs for twenty five minutes of cardio on my machine, and felt great after I worked up a sweat.  I ran into one of Charlie's most effective speech therapists of all time, and was so happy to see her.  That was my sign that I belong upstairs.  (Yes, this was the same speech therapist that I blogged about in the past that when she told me she was pregnant and leaving us when the baby was due, I had a hard time being happy for her.  I am so happy to see her happy and her family thriving- now.)

Home sweet home... 

So, to Jenn, Brenda, and yes, even the instructor, thank you for allowing me to check that off the list of things I know now to not ever do again.  IF only Irene would come upstairs and force me to try some of the machines out, and motivate me off of my elliptical....  I'd feel more accomplished with her if I could make it through one of her classes, and be physically able to do at least 75% of it.  Until then, I will suggest you try a class of hers, then wave to me upstairs.  And Scarlett, get to bakin' sista'!  I think I want to learn to run!