There are so many super-cool, trendy ways to get a workout these days. Newest one to enter my awareness spectrum: TRX group suspension training.
What. The hell. Y’all.
One of my (very brave) friends at work took a class the other day. Naturally, now her Everything hurts and she’s having trouble using the bathroom without injury. She sent me a short video so I could see what this workout is.
I was six seconds in when I decided I would probably:
A) accidentally hang myself;
2) lose my grip on a strap, fling it across the way and smack someone else in the face with it, costing them an eye, then stand there agog as the strap rocketed back toward me and hit me in the back of the head, knocking me over;
Third) let the strap go slack at exactly the wrong time and fall down.
It struck me as I watched further that this looks a lot like the rings event in a gymnastics competition, only most of the time you’re in some variation of a standing position. Note: that allowance would not make me any less likely to badly, badly hurt myself or others.
The coworker who did this just lunged by my desk, trying to stretch out her legs.
Last week, she took a Zumba class. If you’re not familiar, it’s basically Latin dancing to work off calories. Fun, right? She had a good time, but she lamented that she can’t do classes like these because she’s always at least one step or instruction behind everyone else and therefore going left when everyone else is going right, back to their forth, down to their up, etc. I can empathize. I suggested she have a drink before the next class, as, if she is anything like me, she’s a total white girl when sober, but she can cut a rug with the best of them with a nip o’ grog.
I personally have often wished I could take a fitness class instead of slavishly trying not to fling myself off the back of a treadmill (two sisters and a mother have done it – it’s genetically predetermined to happen to me at some point) or hit myself in the face with an arm pole from a cross-trainer. Clearly my gazelle-like grace is more oriented toward an activity requiring coordination and group-togetherness. But my gym never offers (who am I kidding… offered… past-tense) a class at a time I could attend. And when I see the kind of stuff they’re doing these days, I have to wonder: whatever happened to plain old aerobics? Step class? Olivia Newton-John in legwarmers, gently sweating?
What? That wasn’t about exercise?
Why was she wearing legwarmers? And a leotard?
Okay, what about jogging? Or is it yogging? “It may be a soft J, I’m not sure. But apparently you just run for an extended period of time. It’s supposed to be wild.”
(I ripped that from Anchorman.)
Nah, screw yogging. I’ve never yogged with any kind of commitment. Two miles, max. In climate-control on a treadmill. That’s it. I can’t yog. I run when someone is chasing me with a weapon. End scene.
Step class it is.
Step 1: rejoin gym.
(“Gime? What’s a gime?” The Simpsons.)