Legs, Bums and Tums. I broke all three

This was my first ever experience of Legs Bums and Tums and Kirkstall Leisure centre... perhaps because I've always been too ashamed to say the name of the class to the staff members looking to collect payment, or perhaps because I've never felt I was too bothered about my legs and bum, and one out of three seems like false economy. 

And yet, the time came, this Monday, when I decided that any exercise class will do, and so I gathered my strength and my things and whizzed on over for an hour of toning. 

When I got there, five minutes late as usual, everyone was sat on their steps waiting patiently. I got some equipment together – it always feels good to get a mat, it suggests a leisurely lie down, even though the reality is a little different, but the step and the weights made me nervous – and sat alongside everyone else. 

Fifteen minutes had passed by the time the instructors came flying in. Immediately, she set the music to BLAST-OUT level and began “WOO”- and “YEAH”-ing loudly to bring us out of our waiting-around coma. 

To start with, the warm up felt like a deja vu of the Zumba class I'd gone to at the start of what I'm becoming more and more convinced was an ill-conceived fitness effort. It made sense, it was the same instructor, why wouldn't she use the same warm up? But is it all going to be the same? 

No. First she had us lunging for 3x16 repetitions. And then a different lunge with weights, 3x16. And then a third one. And then step-ups on the step and kicking in the air, 3x16 repetitions. No, not on the small step setting, on the taller one, that's right. And again. And now, quickly, onto the mat. Kick out. And now to the side, 3x16. And now the other leg. 3x16. And now PULSE for a count of 32. 

Are you warm yet? 

No I'm just naturally a shade of crimson and a fountain of perspiration. 

Now lie on your side and lift your leg up for 3x16 repetitions. AND PULSE! And now the other side. And now lying flat lift your legs up. STRAIGHT. THAT'S NOT STRAIGHT. And now... Sitting bone... HOLD IT... hold... 

Genuinely, by this stage, I was lightheaded and exhausted. I don't mean like when you're on the verge of sweat and you're a bit tired. I mean like I can't lift myself up on my arms to rotate onto my other side to do the leg lifts. My leg muscles were quivering and shivering and promising profusely that they will tone up and slim down, just please never do this again. I was worried they may not manage the 7-minute drive home... 

It is only today (Friday) that I am without pain. I spent Tuesday and Wednesday groaning every time I got up, sat down, walked, smiled, took a breath... Thursday I could see the light at the end of the tunnel and today, my poor body is back to a relative normal. 

I will take part of the blame. I shouldn't have pushed myself to this stage given how hugely unfit I am. I knew it was too much, but I felt like every lift, lunge and crunch was costing me a few pennies of this class, and I wanted value. I will also attribute some blame to the instructor, who I am convinced raced through each exercise to make up the 15 minutes she was late by, and the time came from the bits in between where you catch your breath. 

Will I go again on Monday? Possibly, because knowledge is power. 

Monday, 8-9pm, Kirkstall Leisure Centre

Yoga at Kirkstall stretching my horizons

Yesterday, I attended my first yoga class in over a year. Relying solely on my memory, I wandered up to Kirkstall Leisure Centre fully expecting that I would be attending an hour-and-a-half Zumba session, and expecting to die there. This is based on my intolerance of the (apparently) meager hour-long Zumba class which I went to the previous day, at which several times I wondered if that thing I could taste was blood, and if the pressure on the back of my head was normal.

Obviously I had remembered wrong, because it actually turned out to be a yoga class. I won't lie, I was relieved; I could only presume I was more adept at slower, endurance-related activities, than high cardio, high excitement ones, which assumption I merely based on my Zumba experience.

Joey's epic abdominals...

As I entered the room of relaxation, there were about six people present: four ladies, and – to my surprise – two guys. Oh, and equally to my surprise, a lady roughly in her 80s. She piped up: “Hello.”

“Err... hello.”

Surely not? I don't know if this is a gross repercussion of the brainwashing powers of all things like advertising, TV, films and, ahem, the media, but I imagine yoga instructors to be at the peak of their fitness: supple like a young sequoia and toned to an air-brushed perfection. And this lady did not embody the stereotype my head had composed.

She was wearing leggings, and objectively speaking, they were pretty good legs she was showcasing. And sadly enough for me, they were much more flexible than my own 25-year-old trotters. She had a red t-shirt on with a schematic of the sun salutation, which incidentally we didn't do.

An hour of stretching felt good. It made my hibernated muscles feel alive for the first time in a long while. I have to say, a couple of moves didn't make my ankle injury (a year-and-a-few-months old injury. From sport. Me! I know, what!), or my dodgy knee (from nothing) feel brilliant. But she did time and time again stress that we should listen to our bodies and stop if we're going too far, so for my perseverance I have only myself to blame. The rest of it was very pleasant. I'd only criticise that it was a little bit easy maybe, which I didn't think I'd say, given how shamefully out-of-practice I was, but it didn't have any level of difficulty on the timetable, so it was always a shot in the dark.

The lady instructor, apart from her obvious knowledge and yoga ability, also had a very relaxing voice for the cool-down portion of the session. All the more, she was pretty damn jazzy.

In the end, my embarrassingly narrow-minded first impression were stretched beyond what I see and hear all around me each day, and my poor unsuspecting body along with them. 

Wednesday, 8:30–10pm, Kirkstall Leisure centre