Stepping Out.

January 11th, 2011

I’ve avoided all gyms at all costs. Oh I’ve seen the people that walk out of those places, all muscular and well proportioned (except for some freakish guys who just don’t know when to call it a day) And then there are the cute little outfits, tops that don’t cover the essential areas (ah, jelly-belly) and pants that are so tight you can’t wear undies. I’ve never once been inspired to step foot inside such a place.

But the local YMCA is nothing like other gyms. The Y is inspirational. The trim and tight do nothing for me, no, it’s older set I find so inspiring. Perhaps it was the way they wear their jeans on the treadmill, or how a group of men walking fast-paced never draw breath around the indoor track while gossiping the entire time. But I think it’s the fact they are twice my age pushing twice the weights that I can.

I’ve tried the weights and cardio room, along with yoga. But I will never ever do another class there. For against my better judgment I turned up to a “step” class. I had been talked into it by another mum, one who had said “Oh no, you don’t need co-ordination, it’s very easy” (I hadn’t noticed her snicker at the time)

Well, the fast paced music and the instructor with the headset looking like Madonna should’ve given it away. I should have turned around the minute I saw those steps piled high and heard the thumping loud beat, (a combination that shouldn’t be in the same room.) With my steps wedged between two others, somewhere closer to the front than I’d wished, I began to follow the leader. It was easy at first, up and down, to the left and the right, my confidence grew, but not for long.

Before I knew it, another 37 steps were added to the routine; left over right, then a hop, skip, turn, switch feet mid-air, jump, kick to the right, to the left, face the other way and go backwards, upside-down, flip into the air, do a 360 degree turn, and land facing to the east on left pinky toe.

Repeat.

Well, I fumbled my way through this twice until what is now referred to by locals as “the incident”. Somehow I managed to not quite step on the step, and my ankle turned in such a manner that I went flying (which was actually step #38) knocking over 3 people to the right of me, and somehow, one 5 rows back (I don’t know how, but she did blame me in a medical report made at the hospital later that morning)

Needless to say, I returned to the class the following week.  Yes, that’s right, I DID return to the class the following week. Now maybe you’re more of the mindset that once you have completely embarrassed yourself in front of 30 or so people (and injuring 4 others) you may like to hide for the rest of your life. But no, I’m more the type of person who wants to show everyone that I’m not in fact embarrassed (when I am in fact embarrassed) so to prove to everyone (because they just care so much) that I am bigger than my un-coordination. I returned to class (quietly nursing both bruised ankle and ego) to complete another class.

Lesson learned; know my limits, then step on them.

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  1. Margaret says:

    You are a braver woman than I am Meg. For me, it is get up before anyone else, close the door, and go through my paces while the household sleeps. Good for you, to return to the class and refuse to be limited.

  2. Anonymous says:

    A good one, Meg!

  3. Joan and Charles says:

    Oooh I can just picture this, Meg!  I’d rather just give the dog and cats a good laugh right here at home…that’s right, they do laugh in their own furry little ways.

  4. Lynne Deur says:

    Thanks for the story. Now I can put Steps on my “don’t even think about it” list. (Sorry about the bruises.)