I wandered into a Pilates class yesterday at the gym, by mistake you understand, and was talked into staying by one of the old ladies waiting for the class to begin. I'd never done Pilates before and seeing as more than half the class were women over 70, I thought it couldn't be that difficult. I promptly tucked in my tummy and seized the heaviest weights available. In truth they weren't that heavy, they were more like those cute, brightly coloured dumbbells that a two year old could roll about her playpen with ease.
The instructor came in right on time, tall and blonde and with a name to match. Chantal. "If at any point it gets too heavy for you," she said," just put the weights down." Yeah, right. What followed was the most excruciating hour I have experienced in my life. Those cute little weights seemed to get heavier and heavier until I had no choice but to put them down. I should have set up my mat at the back of the class, all the women were doing just fine - even the one who'd left her walking frame at the door.
"So how was that?" they asked me afterwards? I was the new guy so I must have something to say. They were kind enough to wait until I'd recovered somewhat. I'm going back tomorrow.
The instructor came in right on time, tall and blonde and with a name to match. Chantal. "If at any point it gets too heavy for you," she said," just put the weights down." Yeah, right. What followed was the most excruciating hour I have experienced in my life. Those cute little weights seemed to get heavier and heavier until I had no choice but to put them down. I should have set up my mat at the back of the class, all the women were doing just fine - even the one who'd left her walking frame at the door.
"So how was that?" they asked me afterwards? I was the new guy so I must have something to say. They were kind enough to wait until I'd recovered somewhat. I'm going back tomorrow.
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