Please forgive me if I am typing slowly. Every muscle in my body hurts, thanks to another Sizzling Saturday class at my gym. Every Saturday this month, my gym here in Pasadena has been trying out a new, fresh exercise class. And, in the spirit of my New Year To Do List item to Let’er Rip, I’ve tried’em all. Skinny Jeans Work Out, Salsa Hip Hop, Full Throttle Workout and yesterday’s banally- named Parkour Power Play.
Oh, Power Play! That sounds like fun, I thought. Had I read the course description a little more closely, I would have seen that the class was being lead by “Top Athletes of the FreeRunning and Parkour Federation.” Me and “Top Athletes” — not my usual workout partners. And I never been associated with any athletic federation, except the Federation of Ski Racing Cocktail Waitresses and Bartenders in the late 80′s.
If you are wondering what FreeRunning and Parkour mean, think criminals being chased through an environment that includes leaping of buildings, vaulting over walls, sliding down steep hillsides and crawling under fences. ( Soon to be an MTV reality competition, I kid you not, starring our instructors. Check out their reel on You Tube. The Lost Boys Family. ) That was pretty much the class, except we were accompanying by Jay-Z and inside the gym’s fishbowl classroom being watched by middle-aged treadmill kings.
Holy Cow, maybe I should have bailed when the warm-up including crabwalking and crawling our forearms. But no, I stayed for the leaping, the bounding, the vaulting, and some maneuver that included the word “quadra-ped.” The low moment came right after the warm up, when the Top Athlete instructed me and the other soccer moms and accountant dads on “precision jumping.” Now, I’m a gal who has many talents, but jumping with two feet is not one of them. I have no vertical and even less horizontal. For those of you old enough to remember the Standing Broad Jump portion of the Presidential Physical Fitness Test, let us share a moment of silence for my lost dignity. Thank you.
But, I have to tell you, by the end of class, I was on-board. Maybe because it was actually fun! Once the room full of weekend warriors got over our initial terror, we started to laugh, cheer for our fellow classmates and take to heart the message of our Top Athlete instructors: You use to do all this stuff as a kid. Why did you stop?
Yeah, why did I stop crabwalking?
And when our Top Athlete told us the skills we were perfecting could help us boulder a river or out-run a lava flow, I believed him. Because you never know when you are going to need to out-run a lava flow.
Even in suburbia.
Embracing my Chaos, Lian