Call it Fun, Call it Madness…it’s a Workout

By Amy Coward

 

It’s 5:30 a.m., it’s dark outside and I’m running in an alley with eight other crazy people. Why am I here? Why am I not snuggled in my bed? Or eating breakfast in my pajamas? Because I have no excuse. And perhaps no good judgment. I’m in a new class called Tribe Fit, which basically involves exercising until I can’t see straight. I’m hoping this won’t be my demise.

Working out – or saying you’re working out – seems to be all the rage. In nearly every meeting, hallway conversation, even on Facebook, people are continually recanting their recent accomplishments (and sometimes downfalls) with regard to their fitness routine. Apparently, I’m not immune to this trend as I’m writing about it now.

I joined the tribe class to shake things up a bit and besides, “tribe” sounded kind of cool. It couldn’t be too bad, I thought. My tribe has 10 people, most of whom are young enough to be my children. (Apparently other people my age are not this foolish.) There are no men. (Did they think it would be lame? Did they see the video and become appropriately scared? I don’t know.) The trainer is an elite athlete, by any standards, and has the muscle strength of a body builder. So after my very first class, my thought was straight out of Scooby-Doo, “Ruh-Roh!” What have I done?

We started with a warm-up and I thought “Okay, I can handle this.” But soon things took a different turn. There were several sets of difficult exercises listed on a blackboard that had to be completed in a certain amount of time. Some were familiar. Jump ropes. Check. Push-ups. Check. Box jumps. Check. Kettle bell swings. Check. I had endured those at some point. (However, I hadn’t jumped rope since I was about 10 so that would be interesting.) The others on the list were listed in red. With good reason. These were the new exercises that the trainer would demonstrate. And when she did, our collective mouths fell open.

There were alligator crawls, walking burpees (the craziest version of this ever), around the worlds (that only a contortionist could complete) and dropping push-ups. Now keep in mind that lifting my middle-aged body off the ground for a push-up is quite a challenge. I struggle just to get a couple of reps done before my arms start to quiver. Adding special maneuvers was well…doubtful.

I started out optimistic, moving through the exercises, counting my reps. But soon sweat pooled on the floor below me as I began to struggle. Burpees. Push-ups. Around the Worlds. Ugh. I got tangled up in my own arms and legs and I groaned. I tried my best to keep up. But after every round, I slowed down more and more, trying to finish the bizarre movements. At one point, I looked longingly into the class next door where they were dancing to exercise and wondered where I had gone wrong. What had I been thinking? The other tribe members were moving faster, to be sure, but it was no cake walk for them either. Sweat was pouring from them as well and everyone had their game face on trying to get through the sets.

The men in the gym looked on from time to time and you couldn’t tell if it was pity on their faces or fear. Either way, they weren’t coming too close. There were crazy women nearby and they didn’t feel safe.

At long last, the hour work-out was over and time was called. We had all pushed our muscles to do the absurd and drenched our sweat towels in the process. Surely this suffering was good for us somehow. If not, we all needed to reconsider our decision. And perhaps our sanity.

I left the gym unable to speak, hardly able to think and I knew that when I got home, I would need help brushing my teeth.

“Hope you had a fun workout,” said the gym receptionist as I headed for the door. And I muttered, “Fun?!” Not sure that’s the word I would use. She’s obviously never done a walking burpee.

 

Amy Coward is a public relations professional in Columbia, SC. When she is not managing the madness of event planning at Palmetto Health Foundation, she is turning her empty nest upside down looking for fun and finding it. 

 

 

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