Movement is Overrated.

So, it has recently come to my attention – mostly thanks to Pineapple – that I may be carrying a few extra L-B’s. (That would be pounds for those of you who don’t regularly discuss the number of L-B’s they need to lose.) Pineapple has been kind enough to point out that mommy “has a baby in her belly” (totally untrue) and when my sister was pregnant a few months ago, folks actually looked like they were preparing to congratulate me when Pineapple would announce “I’m going to have a baby to play with soon!” So…yeah…some L-B’s need to go.

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With this in mind, I went searching for some options that would 1. fit with my schedule, 2. be relatively engaging/entertaining, and 3. wouldn’t require me to run for miles on end or stop eating altogether. I found a solution in the form of one of those “pilates-yoga-ballet” classes and decided to give it a go by committing to 10 classes.

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When I told my friend about this her response was “I’d rather have my ass drag the ground than attend any such class.” I think she’s serious. I also think she’s smarter than I am but I digress.

We’ll call the class “Booty-B-Gone” and “BBG” for short, for the purposes of this post. Because, if I’m being honest, that’s what I’m looking for. Less bass and the incorporation of a washboard into the band…although that is probably aiming a bit high. (HA! I said “a bit” – so funny.)

So, this past weekend, I went to my first BBG class. I was feeling optimistic because, upon arrival, I realized the class participants varied in age (from 18/19 up to early 70’s) and the ladies in the room seemed to be at various stages of fitness (some really, really, super fit – as in, I’m not sure why you are here but maybe it’s because this class is working so well – and others that had on about 5 different kinds of braces and assured me they wouldn’t finish the class without possibly passing out). Either way, I felt like everything was going to be OK. That just proves, yet again, how poor my decision making process can be.

The ABSOLUTELY ADORABLE BBG instructor started telling us all a bit about what to expect from the class. I didn’t hear the words “run laps” one single time so I was all smiles. She also left the door open and had turned the heat off so the room was really chilly. When a couple of us commented on this, one of the other women, whom I’d begun to mentally refer to as “one of my tribe members” due to her relative visible health level being comparable to my own, assured me that I would warm up quickly and she would be sweating buckets before it was all over.

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OK…now I’m getting a little nervous.

We started out on our toes – just doing a little up/down thing and sort of raising and lowering our arms. Then…the BBG instructor made us squat…on our toes…and continue the movement. Then she made us use weights and double time the movement. This is approximately the time when I fell over…for the first time. Like, literally fell over.

It got worse.

I leaned/reached/squatted/bent/stretched/pointed/flexed/wiggled until I seriously thought I was going to DIE. And I was BURNING UP. Like sweat EVERYWHERE. And the lady in front of me was developing a heart-shaped sweat pattern on her lower back – actually very charming.

We were 15 minutes into the class.

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That was the point I knew I wasn’t going to be able to do everything for the whole class. When  that BBG woman made us move from leg raises at the barre to mountain climbers, I started mentally planning what I was going to do to prevent the incredible soreness I knew I was facing in the immediate future. I began daydreaming about a boiling hot bath and some epsom salt. About 30 minutes later, when I was lying on the floor with a ball balanced between my knees, squeezing for all I was worth, I decided that I would just schedule a massage to immediately follow the next Saturday’s class. Then I started wondering how I would clean up before the massage because, as I mentioned, SWEATY. MESS. This distracted me for about 30 seconds until the masochistic BBG person had us reach behind us, grab our foot, and try to pull it over our heads.

When it was all over and done, I wobbled my way across the room to put my weights and ball away, and shakily sip some water. And realized that most of the class was also barely moving around. And I seriously felt good. I felt a real sense of accomplishment.

It’s Monday now. I can walk again although stairs are out. I spent all of yesterday MOANING every time I had to bend over/pick something up/reach over my head/or sit on the couch. Yes, sitting hurt. But I was also super proud of every groan and ache.

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I’m going back again next Saturday. All I ask is that you pray for me. Lord knows I was raising it up right along with my leg for that hour of BBG. It probably wouldn’t hurt to pray for the instructor, as well…I started mentally planning some evil for her when we reached the 45 minute mark. I don’t anticipate she will fare any better next time. Amen.



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