Hardly Functional

Our family got passes to the gym this last week.  This will be a WIN, WIN, WIN for everyone as I’ll be getting a break from the kids during the day, they’ll be getting a break from me, and Colby and I can have exercise dates on the treadmill and then in the hot tub.  Today I decided to go to a group fitness class to break up the routine and do something other than the treadmill. The only class available at 10:30 was called FUNCTIONAL BODIES, so I decided to give it a try.  I mean, I could benefit from my body functioning, right?

I arrived late, snuck in the back, and tried to ignore everyone’s stares.  It wasn’t until I got my weights and balancing ball all set up that I bothered to look around.  I think I was the only person in there under 65 years of age.  After deciding that it would be MORE embarrassing and disruptive to leave, I balanced on my ball with my fellow Senior Citizens and reminisced about a similar experience that happened to me while we were living in Iceland.  Here’s a post from the Iceland Project Blog from January of 2007:

Last week I ended up joining the women-only fitness center downtown hoping to meet some people through the different classes they offer. Yesterday was my first aerobics class, and I was hoping to just slip in the back row and, if nothing else, not stick out. Unfortunately, I came late and was forced to be in the front row, had wet shoes and kept slipping, and–except for an occasional “break it down”–had no idea what the instructer was telling us to do.

 

I decided to brave it again today and check out a class called meðgongujoga (lok). When I walked in the door, every head turned and looked at me. I don’t just mean looked at me, but I mean really stared at me to the point of uncomfortability. I went to the back row and soon discovered it was a yoga class. Things were going fine until the instructor started pointing at me and telling me something adamantly in Icelandic. Again, everyone looked at me stared. Apparently my knee was bent wrong and I wasn’t supposed to be wearing socks. I took a deep breath and tried to shake it off.

 

After a few minutes of planks and down dogs, I began to look around.  The woman in front of me seemed to be in her first trimester of pregnancy and had an adorable, black maternity tank top on. I didn’t think anything of it, but then saw another woman in the front row with a large tummy. And the woman next to her, too.  What a coincidence.  It wasn’t until the class was half way over that I realized every single woman in the room was pregnant.

 

I was beyond humilated.

The silver lining:  I have two new vocabulary words:

Meðgongujoga: pre-natal yoga

lok: closed (a class noone else is allowed to come to).

No I’m not pregnant…I’m just a confused American.