Raising the Bar

It's not my usual day of writing but it hasn't been my usual morning.

The week has been intense, tiring, the five hour a night sleep because I've pushed the boundaries of work, play, and Skype.  By yesterday afternoon, I was spent and the last thing I wanted to do this morning was to awaken at 5:00, gear up the car and drive an hour to try my hand at open water swimming with my fellow aspiring half-iron training group.  I wanted to sleep in not publicly flail.  My post-reading-water-and-a-movie self reasoned that an 8:15 barre class would be a good start to the weekend.  I have never been to a barre class but have heard it described and thought, why not?  Knowing that it had a reputation for being quite intense, I was beginning at the Y; I knew they didn't have a bar but instead use chairs and add in a few other exercises.

"Chairs, I can do that."

So this morning, I snoozed my alarm until 7:38, left the house at 7:45 and arrived promptly to the gym at 8:00 for the 8:15 start.  So far, so good.  I knew the instructor, and she and another student helped me with the set-up.  Oh, and no shoes.  With all the props and bare feet, I had the thought that it was like Iyengar yoga.  This would be removed from my brain with the warm-up set.  The instructor mentioned planks.

"Planks?  I do those every day.  I've got this."

"Will I sweat?", I asked the veteran student?  "A little," she replied.

And so it began.  At the beginning of the class, I was aware there was music but at some point the echo of my heart beat replaced all rhythm emanating from those little speakers.  I was sweating.  Not the dainty sweat of the rest of the class but the "I just ran 5 miles" kind.  My legs trembled in spots I didn't know had muscles.  As I sip my coffee, I'm still trying to forget the words "pulse" and "tiny movements" and "on your toes."   ON YOUR TOES.  Who knew such words would cause my hips to scream for mercy as we did the "double-time" set.

We started to stretch finally.  I was excited.  "Are we finished?" I asked hopefully.  No, she said, "we're only halfway!".  Oh my.

Enter stage left:  planks.  On gliders.  GLIDERS.  Elevated.  "Just 10 more."  These were the words that nearly brought spontaneous tears.  I won't write the words that went through my head like a mantra, but let's just say they were "Holy".

"Gliders can be put away."  Grateful.

Enter an ab ball.  Not grateful.

Now I've used a ball once in my life to the entertainment of my sister.  Now I was miraculously rolled on it with my "heavy" weight set dangling over my body.  First set, fine.  Second set, burn, but fine.  Change to the smaller weights?  Mine were out of reach.  "I'll just use these so I don't fall off the ball," I thought with assurance that I had made the right choice.

Weights above my face?  Change hand position while arms elevated?  I began a series of earnest prayers entitled "Please don't let me drop one of these on my nose" while my arms trembled overhead.  And raised bridge with pulses on a ball?  I wasn't sure I would make it.

With the remaining energy and a "dig deep" pep talk, I finished the class.  Apologies to the person who uses my blue mat as I forgot to wipe it down after.  This thought only occurred to me much later.  I hope you'll understand and have forgiveness for a newbie with trembling arms and legs.

Namaste.