WHY AM I HERE WHY AM I HERE WHY AM I HERE. Source: Supplied
You immediately have two questions.
1) Why is the pilates instructor barking instructions in French?
2) Why are you the only man in the room?
You get the feeling this isn't what you signed up for.
When The Girlfriend suggested a new Sunday Pilates class, for free, you thought 'sure, why not?' (You also thought: free.)
Your flexibility is nowhere near where it should be if you're serious about making a run at the finals in indoor soccer AND trying to deadlift a new personal-best of 85kg.
Pilates, you're told, is great for this, and for general strength and tone. You immediately recall Brad Pitt's 24 abs from Fight Club and need no further convincing. Pilates it shall be.
So if I keep doing Pilates, I'll look like this. Right? OK deal. Source: Supplied
You're perplexed, even a little curious, when you see the handrails running along floor-to-ceiling mirrors on either side of the room. But knowing very little about this discipline, you shrug it off.
When you begin pivoting, squatting and "pulsing" to the tune of Flashdance in the warm-up, you're struck with sudden, jolting images from Billy Elliot. That's odd. This is Pilates. Anyway.
Then comes the French. What's with all these words? Then you laugh. And can't stop. This becomes awkward because the instructor has a great view of you from the mirrors. Which are EVERYWHERE.
This isn't Pilates. It's BALL-ATES. Who knew ballet-inspired Pilates was a thing? A lot of people, it turns out. Disciples of something you've come to know as "barre" or "barre extend".
During a quick break in Plié-action, you shoot daggers at The Girlfriend and tell her she's making breakfast and doing the coffee run.
It's not that you have a problem with ballet as a concept or that you think it's not for guys. It's just you thought you were going to Pilates. And instead you're dancing. Which is not for Sunday mornings.
You return, attempting to maintain focus and pay due respect.
Then it happens.
A drop of sweat. Heavy legs. Burning lungs. And suddenly, shockingly, you realise you can't laugh or mock this ball-ates thing. Because it's absolutely, unequivocally, kicking your a***. You're humbled. You try to keep up and barely do. Ball-ates isn't lame at all. It's amazing. I AM WHO I AM.
"Joy of movement increasing. Love of dance impossible to resist. Toes twinkling. Look at me, girls! I'm doing ballet... and I love it!" Source: Supplied
It wasn't just the ball-ates that put a hairpin in the schedule this week. That, plus a 21-day meditation challenge and (on a pitifully cold Thursday night) a game of mixed netball, marked three significant departures from The Routine.
For years you've stuck to the standard Workouts For Blokes: weights, touch football and running. But recently you've wanted to look beyond that. Who wants to do the same old things, over and over again? Monotony is not for winners. Brad Pitt didn't carve that torso on a twice weekly 3km run to the park and back.
It comes as a shock to realise you loved it. All of it. The dancing Pilates. The mind-clearing and soul-cleansing meditation. The run-halt-pass and tactical awareness of nettie.
So. Here it comes. Kudos to ball-ates and kudos to you, Girlfriend. Come to think of it, she also suggested the meditation challenge and organised the netball team. Looks like she'll be getting breakfast and coffee this morning.
Chris is taking a break to recover from pulling off a sick arabesque. He's cooling his heels on Twitter: @christoforpaine.
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