So, around the six-week mark of gym-going, my routine of 30 minutes of cycling, 15 on the X-trainer, another 10 of cycling and then either the abdominal machine, some of the easier weights or dropping dead in a sweaty, wibbly heap on the floor became a tad repetitive and started to concern me that just doing essentially cardio was not going to turn me into the lithe, slim-but curvy and toned, non-wibbly goddess that I aspire to be. I also realised that however reasonable the university gym is, I was possibly not taking full advantage of all the facilities and so looked up the list of free weekly classes they offer to find something to help me mix it up a little.
At first glance, most of the classes seemed terrifying, with names like Spin Fit, Strength and Tone Circuit, Ultimate Abs and Run 'Til U Chun(der). The only one that looked appealling was Lo Impact Yoga Fitness which the nice girl at the desk explained was actually for OAPs, and the idea of being beaten to the Downward Dog Pose by a seventy-something in velvet sweatpants with Juicy on the behind (no jokes, I have seen one) is never that pleasant. And then I found Mind and Body. It sounded easy and relaxing and "for all levels".
I have always secretly loved anything that promises to "relax" me, be it physically or mentally; I listen to podcasts and watch YouTube videos which teach me how to breathe for ultimate calm (which make me sound like a bouncy castle losing air), I do stretches to untense my neck and shoulders (which make me sound like I'm doing the orgasm scene from When Harry Met Sally), I once even tried chanting (which made me sound like a twat). Therefore Mind and Body sounded perfect for me; I could stretch out my poor boob-supporting shoulders while breathing and listening to soothing music with someone in charge to make sure I didn't fall asleep with my headphones on and strangle myself (as once almost happened), all in a warm and caring environment in which all were equal and no previous experience was expected.
How wrong I was.
I arrived in my usual gym gear, as once again the catch-all phrase "wear comfortable clothing" had been used; of the two girls who had arrived before me, one was in yoga pants and what appeared to be a swimsuit, while the other was in skintight black lycra; it was in fact so clingy that I can only hope it wasn't some form of gimp suit. So far, so disheartening. They were swiftly followed by more of the same - skinny, muscled and strangely asexual American girls with super-scraped-back ponytails, leather thong necklaces and expressions that said "if it's not organic, wrapped in hemp and blessed by a Native American shaman then get it away from me, unclean one". There was one fairly large older woman, who I felt might be a kindred spirit, but turned out to be able to do a perfect Backwards Bridge or whatever it's called, despite having a larger chest than I do. Aaaaaand then there was the lovely old man who gave it all his best shot, but was distinctly possibly wearing his wife's jogging bottoms and then chose to stand in front of me. Not exactly ideal.
The class began when the instructor arrived, and at first she seemed like the ideal Mind and Body coach; cropped grey hair, weirdly sinewy body for her age, healthy tan, big smile and vibe that said "I swim with dolphins and meditate on mountains and my hair used to be waist-length before I cut it all off and wove it into a rug", although she seemed rather too perky and loud for my liking. We all took a mat (mine was slightly sweaty) and removed our shoes and socks, which I would have preferred to have been notified of beforehand as a) my socks were mismatching and b) I have no sense of smell and therefore get paranoid about.... foot-glow.
Then the instructor put on the first CD track, and instead of the tinkly synthy seashore waterfall trance tracks, so beloved of spas and shopping channels, we were treated to a series of rousing anthems which consisted of trumpets and cymbals and repeated phrases like "You ARE the powAH!" and "FREE yourself to BE yourself!" and "Raise your HANDS, love your LIFE!". There are many things I hate in life - eating anything that still has a face attached, being tickled with a feather, that horrible feeling when you've just dried your hands and you touch paper, Russell Brand..... But there is a special place of loathing for inspirational yet anonymous music, the sort that isn't for any one person or purpose, but tells you that, if you would just FREE yourself, you could BE yourself, without elaborating on how this is actually accomplished. I had hoped that the CD would be a mix of tracks, but they continued in a similar vein until the machine jammed and we had the same track over and over and over until the only thing I felt I had the powAH to do was run, run far away.
Even though the participants were clones, the instructor was terrifying and the CD was a nightmare in a plastic case, the class could have been saved by its content. Gentle stretching and breathing was all I wanted; heavy-duty yoga and pilates (yogalates) that prevented me from breathing was what I got. The instructor would rattle off a list of positions called things like Pregnant Cat and Weeping Sycamore and Horny But Gentle Elephant and everyone would begin swooping to the floor with a leg in the air while doing one-nostril breathing, while I suddenly recalled my PE report from S1 which stated "Annabel is a charming pupil to teach and tries her hardest. However she lacks any form of upper body strength and should not be left unattended while attempting to climb or lift." The highlight was perhaps a move that involved balancing just on one's hands while hooking one's ankles round one's arms. Bones cracked, chests heaved, the man in his wife's sweatpants swore in what may have been German and I looked around me and wondered if it would ever, ever end.
When it finally, finally did, and I staggered back to the changing room, winded and sweating harder than a priest in a brothel, the instructor chose to follow me, gave me a big smile and told me that "she hoped I'd come back, then maybe I'd improve". Then she hugged me. There are no words.
In short, I'm afraid I just don't bend that way.
