Forty...

Today I take part in my first ever group exercise class: Pilates. After showering and working up the nerve to drive to the gym, I stand outside the studio and shake because I am so nervous. People are going to see me trying to do the exact same thing as them and the class won't be able to happen because everyone will be laughing at my feeble attempts to raise my feet over my head.

My thoughts are intensely more cynical because I am watching the end of another group exercise class in which people are doing some crazy muscular workouts. I want to cry because I feel so bad for these people and I know I'm going to be in that same position in a matter of moments. I am slightly encouraged because my coworker who has experience in pilates is here and tells me that they tend to have the lights off during the class. Praise be to Jehovah.

The class before mine finally ends, almost 10 minutes of pure torture late. I walk in to the studio, grab a mat (Ew. It's used. Who knows if this has ever been cleaned) and hide in the back of the room. Most of the other people in the class have brought their own mats and I see that all of them are stretching before the class begins. A pre-workout workout, I guess. So I cave to the pressures of the rest of the students and stretch out my sore muscles.

The instructor fiddles with her iPod and shuts off the fans before she finally begins the class. She's playing the most god-awful elevator music versions of top 40 hits from probably 5 years ago. She gives a brief introduction and we start. 3 minutes later, I want to quit, and all I've been doing is sitting upright on a mat and pointing my toes. And this is supposed to be a 45 minute class. Ever since I joined this gym, I have had more near death experiences than I care to think about, and today, it looks like, will be no different.

I kind of always assumed Pilates was more of a workout for women, and the composition of the class would suggest the same. I am the only male in the room, and a majority of the women, save for 3, are over the age of forty. And apparently all of them are in much better shape than I am. This is one of the HARDEST workouts I've ever had to do. So much of it focuses on core strength. The instructor asks us to lay on our backs, swing our feet up over our heads, and bring our legs down in wide circles. No. No lady instructor, I will not be doing that. I will try, but I know I will fail.

Stop that. Stop it right now.

This woman is doing things that, in my opinion, defy both the laws of physics and of biology. I had no idea a body could do things like that, and I watched women's gymnastics during the Olympics. It's incredibly impressive, but I'm only halfway through and my muscles start to ache. I just keep pushing, taking breaks when I need them.

We end the class in 'first position,' and I can only assume that means the Pilates version of ballet first position, but I really have no idea. I dry off with my towel and contemplate offering to mop the floor where I was stationed because I'm sure it's disgusting over there. I put my mat away and the instructor tells me 'Good job.' 'Thanks,' I mutter in reply. I decide she's very impressed that I kept going, even though she was probably very aware that I was having a hard time and she wanted to encourage me.

I go home and take my second shower of the day before noon, and spend the rest of the day attempting to recover. If I'm feeling up to it, I'll go again next Saturday.