Would you believe me if I told you that 8 little old ladies kicked my butt today? You should… because I’m ashamed to admit, it’s true.
I attended my first class at the Rec center today: “Power Pump Basics: A fast paced high energy workout using a barbell system burns fat while increasing metabolic rate”. Sounds pretty intense right? You can imagine my surprise when I walked in 5 minutes before the class started and there was a twig of a women pushing 70 talking with her pal, a regular, of about 65. Confused, I asked them if this was the Power Pump class, and thrilled at the prospect of a newbie they enthusiastically confirmed it was. I strongly considered bowing out, sure that spending the 55 minute class time on my own with free weights and an elliptical would certainly net a better workout that the one I had signed up for, however their excitement at ‘young blood’ joining them made me concede one class wouldn’t hurt. Boy was I wrong!
Over the course of the next 5 minutes, the rest of the posse rolled in, obviously regulars, because when Elaine entered the room the group broke out in Happy Birthday as she started her next Decade… 60… I have now confirmed I’m the youngest in the room by at least 30 years. The music starts, I’m digging the throw back to the 80’s music, and happily following along with the moves… but alas, I still look the part of the beginner, missing every transition by at LEAST one beat as the rest of the class flows seamlessly from move to move. Fifteen minutes in, my heartbeat is up, I’m quite warm and pleasantly surprised that my face is flush and I can ‘feel the burn’. Then the music shifts to rap. My 70 year old instructor tells the ladies, “don’t listen to the lyrics they’re simply awful, just follow the beat”, yet situated directly behind her, I can hear her singing along with the portions of the song that aren’t profane. Giggling profusely on the inside I follow along as the tempo jumps, though not for long, as I quickly realize this is WAY tougher than I thought and I need to focus if I’m going to keep up. Twenty minutes later we bring the aerobic portion to an end and I’m thoroughly spent. I also appear to be the highlight of my peers as they gush over how nice it is to see someone younger challenged by the moves as well…. Thanks ladies.
Next up we grab the free weights to incorporate into our moves. I grab a pair of 5lb weights, certain they won’t be a problem, and to ensure there would be plenty of the 3lb weights for the others. Within about 10 minutes of moving those five pounders, my arms thought they were going to fall off, and I’m wondering what in the heck is going on, that I can tote a 20 lb beast of a baby, and 36 lb toddler all around God’s green earth, yet my limbs start to quiver after the 25th rep of 5lb windmills?!? We moved to abs after that, and it was QUITE apparent that those muscles haven’t seen much action since I was Pregnant with Caleb 3 years ago, yowsa!
Over the course of the 55 minute class not only my body, but my pride, took a thorough beating. When the class ended a few of the ladies asked if they would see me again, acknowledging this isn’t generally what ‘my type’ expect. While I did originally expect a much younger demographic populating the class, I couldn’t deny that the workout fit the description of the class, and actually discovered I enjoyed the class make-up as it removed ANY self-consciousness I harbored. I think this might be the perfect place for me to dust off some of those long lost muscles, and when I’m not sucking gas in a room full of women twice my age+, maybe I’ll try to find a class of ~40-50 year old ladies… Cause after today, it’s quite obvious I’m nowhere near ready for a set of my own peers