Apologies for the title. Generally it is very unlike me to resort to toilet references in my writing – despite my nearest and dearest loving a bit of rude humour – but my latest dalliance in the more meditative physical activities can only be comfortably reflected on through an ironic lens.
Given that it is “Healthy January” (she types through a mouthful of crispy bacon sandwiched in a buttery English muffin) it seemed the ideal time to take up a new activity, and also get to hang out with a friend that I don’t usually see enough of. So a couple of evenings ago, off we went to the first night of a new Pilates course. It was intermediate level (a bit ambitious given that I can’t even figure out the breathing) and was in a lovely, welcoming studio with all the equipment provided.
Now I am no stranger to exercise, but I have always lacked the subtlety for calm, precise activities, and I am definitely more suited to rugby than yoga. Can you see how Pilates may be a problem? On top of that, I am the world’s most competitive person when it comes to anything in the sports family, so when the person beside me (the type of person who has been doing three classes a week for the last 10 years) can stand on her head, I want to try it too – despite still not having a clue how to “find my centre” or “engage my core”. It’s not pretty – arms and legs everywhere and lots and lots of wobbling. And then there’s a completely irrational desire to push over one of those perfectly centred people who look stunning in Lycra and seem tranquil in even the most awkward pose (when us normal people are concentrating so hard we look like we are trying really hard not to fart!!!)
And seriously what is with Pilates instructions? – “make your belly-button disappear” – given that it is attached to my belly, if I could make it disappear I can assure you I would not be bothering with Pilates!!! “Don’t let me see your ribs when you breathe” (Not such a problem, as I had forgotten I was supposed to be breathing at all in the effort to follow all the bizarre instructions) and the repeated mantra “imagine you are trying to stop yourself from peeing” – the very mention of the word making me petrified that I was going to lose all bladder control right there and then. Then there was this weird circle thing (see above), and you were to squeeze it very hard whilst panting like you were in an ante-natal class…and that was really bloody difficult (given that your butt was off the ground, you were squeezing a plastic ball between your thighs, a leg was in the air and you had completely forgotten how to breathe). And don’t get me started on the constant threat of mind-blowing foot cramp and the fear of public writhing and screaming….and this is supposed to be relaxing!!
But the hour flew!!! And nobody died. And the very sweet instructor suggested that I practice at home (I think she knew I was really a beginner overestimating my abilities) and despite everything I enjoyed it. And I can definitely only improve. So back I go next week, to try harder to become centred, and not to feel I have to beat the girl beside me when it comes to holding the Pilates plank!! And learn how to “squeeze (still not sure what exactly) like you are trying to stop yourself peeing”. An invaluable life skill to master xo