(Wherein I type for 5 straight minutes and stop immediately when the timer goes off…)
To continue my ever-loving search for a form of exercise that doesn’t kill me/bore me (same thing??) I’ve started doing The Bar Method, or as my friend M refers to it, BarM. Because BM is too reminiscent of something else we all do, and it stinks.
I’ve taken two classes so far, and am planning on taking my third today…though I’m combatting a helluva sore muscle behind my left knee. Who knew that directly behind my left knee is actually my achilles heel? It must feel cozy there, and confident, like it’s on its way up.
Well, OW. I’ve been gimping around the house, trying not to fall over, and have managed to stay resolutely positive about the whole thing.
Thing is, I’m always lured by the promise of New. I have no idea how long this little flirtation will last, but I signed up for their 30-day intro special, so we can assume that, barring natural or man-made disaster, I’m in it for 30 days.
Women in workout classes can be very funny. We’re all huffing and puffing and very aware of the mirrors. I grew up dancing – years upon years of ballet – so the mirror thing has a particular history for me. You have to find your peace with the mirror, because depending on the composition of the glass or a weird, roll-y bend, it can make you unrecognizable to yourself. Which is extremely