Saturday, November 20, 2010

Yesterday, I went to my second Pilates class in as many days since my surgery six weeks ago. I decided to throw in this class, an easy one for beginners, since I’d gone to my regular advanced one previous night.

Arriving at the class, again, one that was to be easy for beginners, my eyes grew wide when I spotted who was to teach the class—not the regular instructor.

I’ve gone to classes taught by the substitute trainer in the past. Always enjoy them, but hers are tough to get through. Picture Alvin the chipmunk. Now place him on speed. This is how intense this instructor is at the warm-up of her classes!

Spotting her, I thought, I’m surely going to die today. I’m keenly aware that I’ll step it up and match the instructor move for move, not matter how challenging doing so may be. This is the way I’ve always been. And so, my next thought was, the strange part about my imminent death at Pilates is that I’ll probably enjoy the process. LOL. Yes, I’m one of those—the die-hard athletes who enjoy being pushed just beyond my previous ability level.

Of course, I did have the option to turn around and head out of the studio, sparing myself. But I didn’t go with that option, for I do like this instructor. Also, I felt really good at my class last night and thought I’d be able to keep up again today. And you know what? I did just that.

So, although I’d started out thinking I’d pop into an easy Pilates class, what I ended up with was anything but, taught by an individual who functions at such a high speed as to make me look like I’m a sloth. This makes me smile, for I adore being challenged in such a great way by someone who so outranks me. Makes me try harder. Push myself to levels I didn’t think possible. And at the end of class, I’m always glad that I did.