Tuesday, January 26, 2016

kick and core.

Let's talk about group exercise.

It seems like everyone I talk to is a huge fan of it. You know, working out in a room with a bunch of people, doing the same stuff to really loud music with heavy bass. They talk about accountability and healthy gal pal bonding time. They talk about 'fun' and how 'fast' a workout seems to fly by.

And they always say "You should totally come along! You'll love it."

I've been pretty reticent to participate in this form of exercise because usually when I tell one part of my body to do something, like four other parts of my body respond by doing something embarrassing. I ran cross country in high school- a team sport, but pretty much a solitary endeavor with a solidly repetitive body motion. It was a good fit for me.

So when I decide I'm going to get into shape, which I do from time to time, I usually turn my trusty running shoes to the streets, trails, or treadmill- with varying degrees of success. Because sometimes, I admit, I do get pretty fucking bored with the same old running, day in and day out. And then I stop with the exercise and then I continue to be out of shape.

Do you see where I'm going with this yet?

I allowed myself to be talked into a group exercise class called 'Kick & Core' last night.

I should also mention that in a weak moment I gorged myself with Arby's about 2.5 hours prior to this initial attempt. That turned out to be a poor idea, because trust me, Arby's does not taste as delicious multiple hours after consumption, coming up instead of going down.

No, I did not vomit during group exercise, mercifully the universe spared me that degree of humiliation. But I will say that there were a couple of touch-and-go moments and I definitely got to re-taste some of that poorly planned meal.

I wore my normal running attire, which consists of a baggy t-shirt, some capri length  black leggings, legs that haven't been shaved since New Years Eve, and some old running shoes. Let's just say no outfit would have made me feel like I fit in with these women, but running a razor over my legs in the past 25 days would have helped me to feel like I was at least a female.

Despite my Sasquatchesque appearance, I felt welcomed and and not singled out as the new girl, which is my biggest fear. I went with one friend and felt some relief that I could look over and give her a bewildered eyebrow raise at any time.

Still, I  wish I had the words to express how uncomfortable it was for me to sweat my tits off in a room completely lined with mirrors. It allowed me to be intimately aware of the fact that I was always two to three motions behind the rest of the class, flailing wildly. It also let me know just how miserable I look when I'm doing squats. Approximately the same amount of miserable I feel. At least I'm proportionate.

My one consolation the entire work out was that everyone was probably concentrating so hard on keeping up that they didn't have time to notice what an absolute ass I was making of myself.

When it was over, I was relieved. Like, whole soul relieved.

I do think this world needs group exercise. "Fun" exercise. I think they need peppy instructors who are impossibly fit and don't even grow winded throughout the hour-long routine that you yourself barely survived. We need these kind of women, even though when they casually mention their two year old child you are completely baffled that a baby made it's way out of their perfect body only two years ago. Maybe some people really are motivated by the idea that they will be missed by the group if they don't get their asses in gear and go work out with their friends.

I wish I was motivated by that.

I think I have some kind of physical insecurity that doesn't translate to my normally confident psyche. I think it has to do with how out of shape I really am right now, compared to in shape it seemed like everyone else in the class was. Maybe if I has been back in the exercise saddle for four months instead of four workouts, I could have laughed and poked fun at myself for how uncoordinated I am, like I would in pretty much any other setting. But probably not. I think I'll never like staring in the mirror while I sweat my ass off and wish I were dead, surrounded by the group of thirty beautiful and more coordinated women whose bodies actually do what they tell them to do.

The truth is, I think I prefer solitary exercise. I think I prefer pretty much solitary anything over large group activity. Besides, have you seen treadmills nowadays? They have T.V.s on them! I can stare at pretty much anything I want.


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