Gluteus for punishment
I've popped my Pilates cherry. For years, I've wanted to give it a try and I'm thrilled to say I've done it. What I hadn't anticipated was how intimate Pilates could be.
The most delightful lady led the class - a diminutive Italian who made me feel like Shrek in comparison - very hands on. As we engaged our core she, with the help of hand gestures, showed us which (ahem) internal muscles were being used. Once I was fully engaged (I knew those pelvic floor exercises would come in useful for more than being stuck in traffic), my chest open and my shoulders back, making a shape a Flamenco dancer would envy, we began.
I'm not overly confident and as the only newbie in the class (I could feel the others groan at the thought I might slow them down), I felt I was best at the back. One disadvantage was that, once on my mat, I couldn't see what I was supposed to be doing unless I moved my head out of position. Another was that, every which way I turned I was treated to a view of a stranger's "engaged" backside. Even worse, they got to see mine.
We'd been given resistance bands. Frankly I was relieved when I was told what they were. When a stranger presents you with a red latex strip that is reminiscent of something fetishist, it can make one a little nervous. The absence of talc did help calm my nerves, for sure, and made up for being told to tie my knees together but with enough room to insert a fist between them.
The first 20 minutes were agony - by far the biggest challenge was to perform the exercises with control, remaining engaged and breathing. Bizarrely, I managed the first two, newly learned actions, and had to focus on doing something that I've been doing for more than 40 years. A Pilates class is not the place for heavy breathing...
Pilates requires core strength. I have never had a core - I'm not an apple. Have you ever seen a beetle when it's dying? On its back, limbs in the air, helpless? That was me - I was OK at curling onto the floor, but not so good at getting back up. Still, we all had a bloody good laugh about it.
The remaining 40 minutes of the class flew by and when I left the studio, I felt good. I was a bit like Bambi going down the stairs, but I felt truly grounded. By the time I got home, my glutes and a few areas of my body I didn't realise could hurt, were rather painful. My Pilates coach is honest, at the very least. And bonus - I didn't wet myself - I was totally engaged throughout.
I still managed to get up this morning, and I'm walking around just fine. I had anticipated attending this morning's class, but I don't like to add insult to injury. I'm happy to wait until tomorrow. The only thing I can't determine is whether, in the gluteus world, it's better to achieve maximus, medius or minimus. Small is beautiful, big is better. Personally, I'd rather just be mobile.
The most delightful lady led the class - a diminutive Italian who made me feel like Shrek in comparison - very hands on. As we engaged our core she, with the help of hand gestures, showed us which (ahem) internal muscles were being used. Once I was fully engaged (I knew those pelvic floor exercises would come in useful for more than being stuck in traffic), my chest open and my shoulders back, making a shape a Flamenco dancer would envy, we began.
I'm not overly confident and as the only newbie in the class (I could feel the others groan at the thought I might slow them down), I felt I was best at the back. One disadvantage was that, once on my mat, I couldn't see what I was supposed to be doing unless I moved my head out of position. Another was that, every which way I turned I was treated to a view of a stranger's "engaged" backside. Even worse, they got to see mine.
We'd been given resistance bands. Frankly I was relieved when I was told what they were. When a stranger presents you with a red latex strip that is reminiscent of something fetishist, it can make one a little nervous. The absence of talc did help calm my nerves, for sure, and made up for being told to tie my knees together but with enough room to insert a fist between them.
The first 20 minutes were agony - by far the biggest challenge was to perform the exercises with control, remaining engaged and breathing. Bizarrely, I managed the first two, newly learned actions, and had to focus on doing something that I've been doing for more than 40 years. A Pilates class is not the place for heavy breathing...
Pilates requires core strength. I have never had a core - I'm not an apple. Have you ever seen a beetle when it's dying? On its back, limbs in the air, helpless? That was me - I was OK at curling onto the floor, but not so good at getting back up. Still, we all had a bloody good laugh about it.
The remaining 40 minutes of the class flew by and when I left the studio, I felt good. I was a bit like Bambi going down the stairs, but I felt truly grounded. By the time I got home, my glutes and a few areas of my body I didn't realise could hurt, were rather painful. My Pilates coach is honest, at the very least. And bonus - I didn't wet myself - I was totally engaged throughout.
I still managed to get up this morning, and I'm walking around just fine. I had anticipated attending this morning's class, but I don't like to add insult to injury. I'm happy to wait until tomorrow. The only thing I can't determine is whether, in the gluteus world, it's better to achieve maximus, medius or minimus. Small is beautiful, big is better. Personally, I'd rather just be mobile.
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Thanks for ranting!