What the Plank?

On the heels of an awesome workout in which I ran/walked a 5K in under 45 minutes, which was huge for me, I decided to take it down a notch and indulge in some yoga. You know, decompress and stretch the ol' body out. It was the first time I've done yoga in, oh, about forever, so I was excited to get back in the groove.

Mark dropped me off at the appointed time--yes, I still can't drive yet--and I boldly walked into the room where I would once again become one with my body. As I walked in and grabbed a mat, the instructor--who was about a size -2--announced that the yoga instructor was ill, so she would be filling in and we would be doing Pilates. She said you can either stay or go.

Not really knowing what Pilates is--when will I learn to find out about these things before I say yes--I decided to give it a try. Bad move. The older lady next to me, who had also come for the yoga class, decided to stick around, too. We plopped our mats down front and center. Second bad move.

Class started with stretching. I totally got this, I thought. But then it all went wrong. Suddenly I was doing weird scissor kicks while it felt like my stomach was being ripped apart. To add insult to injury, we were doing it in front of a huge--and I mean floor to ceiling--mirror. Yeah, imagine that. The whole time, Miss -2 kept saying things like, "Doesn't that feel good?"

"Well, actually no. It hurts like hell," I wanted to scream at her.

She offered three levels of difficulty for each of the exercises, and I always took the easy road. Of course the easy road also led to hell. The other two just led further in to hell. The entire time I was suffering, I kept a watchful eye on my neighbor, seriously afraid for her well-being. I thought about getting up and leaving halfway through the torture, but that mirror and mistake number two, so everyone behind me would see me leave and probably spend the rest of the class ridiculing me kept me in place.

I'm not sure if I blacked out at all, but I do know I implored God's help numerous times. Apparently he was busy yesterday.

At the end of class, I slowly pulled myself off the floor and then helped my neighbor up. I resisted the urge to tell her I didn't think she tried hard enough. I collected my belongings and limped out the door to my awaiting chariot. I was proud that I had done it, but well aware that next time they switch a class on me I'm running for the door.