I've been taking a pilates reformer class once per week at a studio near the house. I get out on Wednesday afternoons for what ends up being about 2 hours. I leave Max at home with our new sitter. He's happy to play with Sarah. I'm happy to let him. It's been a really great set-up - I get physical exercise and mental time off and he gets to entertain a new playmate for a few hours.
The class is limited to 3 participants. Usually, it's me and only one other person, plus the instructor. Yesterday, we had a third and it's funny how one person can change the dynamic so much. This woman was 56 and in great shape. She said she plays golf and tennis several times per week. She also does pilates when she can get into the class. Apparently, it had been 2 weeks since she'd been to a class. So, she complained. And complained. And complained. About everything. It was too hard. There was too much resistance in the springs. How many more seconds do we have to hold this?!
I couldn't help but laugh to myself. I noticed that the other "regular" in the class had started to complain too! The instructor was giving them a hard time and then pointed out that I wasn't complaining, so I must be superwoman. They both stared at me. Or glared. Not sure. I had to chuckle, then explain that this pilates class was my vacation! I loved coming to class. It was my once per week chance to get out of the house and do something for myself. I get to be around other adults and do something fun. I feel great when I finish the workouts. In fact, I stretch every last minute before I go back home, since I'm paying the babysitter to be there anyway. Somehow, I think that my "reason for being there" became my "excuse for being a non-complainer" to them. Oh well. It kept them quiet for a little while anyway! Here's my complaint: I've only got 2 more of these classes left before we leave Durham! I hope I can find something like it when we move. More on our move tomorrow!
No comments:
Post a Comment