Exercise is hard. And, of course, I mean that literally--it is literally hard to do the things you are doing for a prolonged period of time when you are exercising. But, I also mean that mentally--perhaps even more so. It is so hard to get out of your warm bed when that alarm goes off no matter what you're doing, but it is especially hard when you are losing precious sleep to exercise of all things. You would think that it would be easier to get out of your warm bed in the summer, when it's 82 degrees outside, your apartment faces the sun, there are no trees in front of your place, and no air conditioning in your bedroom, but somehow, it's not. It is just as hard to drag myself out of bed, get ready, take Cash for a walk, and then drive my lazy ass to the gym, park, and walk into the gym in summer as it is in fall and winter. It's rough. So, I got my gym membership last February. No, the February before that--February 2013. And I, like everyone else, when they join a gym, convinced myself that I would totally use it. I would definitely take advantage of all the group fitness classes! Of course I would. Fast forward nearly a year and a half, and let me tell you: that is not the case. While I have been to two fitness classes (read about that here), I have not taken advantage of the multitudinous unique classes my gym offers. So, why haven't I quit? Well, for a lot of reasons, not the least of which is that hope springs eternal. Also, because of this (if you're on your phone and it won't link it's "I want to quit the gym" from Friends):
So, I never quit the gym. Instead, I've been paying my monthly fee, and many nights I go to bed with the thought 'tomorrow' running through my head, promising myself that tomorrow will be the day. The day I use the gym! Of course, it never is.
This past week, however, I finally started going to some classes that I've always wanted to try. While I am limited in the ones I can attend (I can't get there at 6:45am, and I can't go at 6:45pm because of work), I have finally started going.
My [gym provided] Yoga Mat for Ashtanga
Saturday, I attended Power Yoga at 12pm. This is a 90 minute class billed as good for 'all fitness levels.' I lasted the entire 90 minutes, so I know that must be true. But, it was hard. This wasn't just stretching yoga. This was power yoga, and I was super sweaty and sore by the time the class was over. But, I also found out that I really love it. It was basically the antithesis of my Spin Class experience (again, here), where I didn't stare longingly outside of the classroom wishing I was anywhere but where I was. In fact, I didn't even look at the clock ONCE during the entire 90 minutes. I really enjoyed pushing my body, and even though I am sure I looked ridiculous doing some of the poses, I am so glad that I went. I know I'll definitely be back to a yoga class at my gym. Maybe I'll even join a yoga studio, who knows! For my first class in Yoga since my Sophomore year in college, I think I did pretty well!
Mat & tools for Barre Assets class
Tuesday, I attended Barre Assets (which several people called 'bare assets,' but it's actually 'Bar'), and this was a nice little mix of aerobic activity and light weight training coupled with bar work (think plea, etc.). I liked it, and I only looked at the clock once. I am finding that how many times I look at the clock during a fitness class has a direct correlation with how much I enjoy the class. After class, I stayed for a little cardio in the Zumba class right after Barre Assets. I had been to Zumba before, and it's pretty fun. So, each class was a 60 minute class, so I spent 2 hours at the gym for the first time since I'm guessing college.
Thursday, I went to Barre Assets, with a different instructor who was a sub. It was good, and we did a few different things than we did on Tuesday, but overall I enjoyed the other instructor more.
Surfset Board
Then, since I was already at the gym, I went ahead and stayed for H2-OM, which is an integrated yoga class where you do some floor work, but then you also do some work on the 'surfset,' which is basically a mock surfboard. This class was only 45 minutes, but it was such a good mix of floor work and work on the surfboard. The surfboard (which is basically set up on three balls and strapped down--see below for a picture from the side) is pretty hard to balance on (at least for someone like me who hasn't done yoga since college), so you really had to concentrate on tightening all the muscles in your body in order to stabilize yourself. The instructor for this class was pretty great, because he kept repeating that we should go at our own paces, and sometimes while people were doing crazy stuff on the board, I was just trying to balance myself (even so, I could feel all of my muscles burning with the effort). I think this is a class I would definitely like to try again. I'd like to see myself become fully stabilized on the board and able to stop wobbling.
Surfset from the side.
Now that I've gone to a few classes, a bit of the nervousness and apprehension has worn off, and I will continue to drag myself out of bed to partake in group fitness merriment (or torture?).
Has anyone out there tried any unique fitness classes?
The month of February has been full of revelations for me, despite the fact that it has only just begun. This week I went to my first Zumba class (this was, indeed, my first fitness class ever), and my first spin class. I'm going to talk about the latter, even though I enjoyed the former much more. I tore myself out of bed on Wednesday, after falling asleep at approximately 6am, in order to make it to the class by noon. I signed in, headed to the locker room, and then went to the room where the class is held. I'd reserved my spot the night before, and I found it, good ol' bike 22--nestled in the back, of course. I fumbled around with the seat, trying to adjust it, and I eyed everyone in the class surreptitiously as he or she (mostly she) adjusted the bike. (is it actually even called a bike? I don't really even know). After fiddling around with it, I still couldn't figure it out, and since the class wasn't even half full, considered switching bikes, but I couldn't figure the one next to mine out, either. Frustrated, I eyed the room, and immediately began to feel self-conscious, as I often do since I've gained a bit of weight. Everyone in there was pretty skinny, except for me. Nobody was looking at me, though, so that's good at least--for all they knew this was my hundredth spin class, not my first. When the instructor arrived, he asked if anyone needed help adjusting their bike. Oh, hey, it is called a bike. Anyway, my arm shot up really fast--I figured I'd feel less embarrassed if I made a joke out of not knowing what in the actual hell I was doing. He came over, adjusted my bike, and told me some basics--like, don't lean on the handlebars, and some other stuff I can't remember now. Then, suddenly, it was time for class to begin. He began talking about resistance, and where we should set our resistance, and again, I was looking around the room. This time, I saw everyone fiddling with some red knob beneath the handlebars, so I did the same, and found out how to increase/decrease the resistance. I don't know what I was at, what percentage--he threw out 20%, but I'm pretty sure i was at like 5%. Whatever. Now, a bit about this spin class-- at my gym, they really try to pump you up in this spin class. The lights dim (save for the one on the instructor, unless he turns it off), and there's lots of flashing lights and it kind of seems like a party. Let me just say that I have never been more glad to be in the relative dark as I was on Wednesday. Because after the instructor dimmed the lights, what followed was the worst 45 minutes of my life. Okay, that's definitely hyperbole. But, it was pretty bad. Unlike Zumba the day before, my eyes were glued to the clock situated directly to the right of the very enthusiastic instructor's head. The second hands ticked away, taunting me, as the instructor told us when to stand, when to sit, when to increase or decrease our resistance. Sure, it was a party. A party in hell. I spent much of the class gazing longingly at the girl running on the treadmill. I wanted to be running on the treadmill. Desperately. These spin people were maniacs. There was a 60 year old woman in the front putting me to shame. I didn't even pedal for the whole 45 minutes. I kept stopping, and I definitely didn't do much with that resistance button, let me tell you. I thought about getting up and walking out--it was dark, they wouldn't even know who I was! Fear of offending the instructor, however, kept me glued to my very uncomfortable seat. I did pedal some, and I did it for as long as I could, and it was definitely better than lying in bed, which is what I would have been doing otherwise. I would steal glances around the class, and everyone (some of them even having little clips they use for this cycling occasion) were pedaling their little hearts out. And there I was, in the back, panting and stealing sips of water feeling sorry for myself. And I was feeling sorry for myself. I even began to cry at one point. Why? I'm not sure-- maybe I was embarrassed, maybe I was overwhelmed, maybe I was mad at myself because there was a time when I probably would have been able to keep up, and I somehow let myself get so far away from that. Finally, the minutes on the clock wound down, and the instructor was rallying us for one final push-- my spin mates were whooping, and seemed to be genuinely enjoying the experience. I decided to pedal for the last 5 or so minutes non stop, even though I had just spent the last 40 feeling sad and fighting tears--and eventually losing that battle and actually crying (did I mention how thankful I was that it was dark?). It was during this rally (where all I was thinking--and had been thinking the whole class-- was "I can't") that the instructor said something that really hit me-- he said "Your mind is stronger than your body, I promise you." Now, I don't know if that's true or not. I think sometimes our minds want us to do things that our bodies just can't--but it really got me thinking. My whole life things have come easy to me--if they haven't, I stopped doing them. Anything that was difficult or required much practice, I wouldn't do. And I'm not sure why. For instance, I like to say that I'm not good at math. But, that's not true. My standardized test scores from elementary through middle school prove it. The fact that my sixth grade math teacher said he thought I could go on to advanced math the next year proves it. But, I declined. I was too afraid of failing--too afraid of working hard, so I went on to regular 7th grade math. I got Cs in Math in high school and college without even trying. When I worked at it, I understood it--I was good at it, and I even sometimes liked it. But, still, I say I'm not good at math. No. I'm not good at focusing on Math, because I'm used to things coming easily to me, and when they don't, I don't want to work at them. Apparently. Yes, that comment by an energetic sprite of a spin instructor brought all of that on. And it brought on the notion that I want to change. I want to start accepting challenges instead of avoiding them--or, at least, try to start doing that, anyway. Habits are, they say, hard to break. So, I'm going to put change into motion. "There'll be some chaaaanges, they're long overdue; there'll be some chaaaanges in my life." I'm not even sure what they are. But, I'm going to try to quit telling myself I can't do things. I'm going to try to realize that just because I have to actually work at understanding or accomplishing something doesn't mean I'm not smart enough or good enough or whatever-else enough. I'm sure it won't be all that easy--changing my body won't be that easy, but hopefully I can take it one day at a time. I did pretty well this week. I ate relatively well (no fast food at all), I exercised, and I didn't berate myself for grabbing twinkies from the vending machine-- I accepted it, and moved on. And that's a step in the right direction. Whereas, before I would let the cheat spiral me completely out of control and use it as an excuse to eat whatever I want because obviously I couldn't do it, and I was dumb to even try. I'm still going to In-N-Out today, but I'm also eating healthily all day, and possibly going to the gym. As for the spin class? It definitely won't be a weekly thing for me, but I would like to have a long-term goal of being able to pedal for the whole 45 minutes, and eventually (who knows when) be able to do the class as it is intended. So, I'll get back in the highly uncomfortable saddle in a few weeks, to see where I'm at after exercising regularly--in the meantime, maybe I'll start a petition for more comfortable seats on those bikes. I mean, I know we're exercising, but is a little comfort too much to ask? A sore ass for days after a failure like that just adds insult to injury. Or... injury to insult, as it were. This hasn't been my only February revelation; thanks, February, for the lesson. And, thanks, Self, for the patience.
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