There was once a time when I attended my gym once or twice a week. Pump classes were my favorite because they didn't require so much coordination - it's less along the lines of step/twist/pirouette/lift and more along the lines of lift/lift/lift/lift at various speeds. You choose how heavy you want the bar to be before each different exercise set, so you can pile on 5 kilos (yes, I am a bit of a sissy) for your strengths, and take it all off for your not-quite-as-strengthy-strengths (is anyone out there actually good at lunges?). It's great because you end up working as hard as musclewoman over there; perhaps she has more weight on the bar than you do, but who counts?
Anyway, I went back to Pump for the first time in a year on Saturday. On Saturday, I felt good. On Sunday morning, it had started to twinge. By Sunday night, my thighs were officially on fire. And they still are!
There is still a silver lining to this story, however. Every time I stand I can remember how hard I worked on Saturday. My muscles will be happy with me after they decide to forgive me.
I love Pump.
5 comments:
Why does something that should make you feel so good sometimes make you feel like you're dying by inches?
Well done for getting back in the groove. Hopefully your muscles will soon be your friends again.
By the way I used to LOVE the complicated coreography classes - it was easier for me to say "I'm having trouble keeping up with the routine - I'm soooo unco!" than it is for me to say "I have no aerobic fitness and I need to stop now!" Yep. Any excuse.
Sounds like fun!
I used to love the pump class. Can't remembe what weight i got too (not very high), but it really strethened my muscles and was great cardio.
Thanks to everyone for the very encouraging comments.
HJ, you are right about the complex classes! They were my favorite right until the one where I bumped into the same woman three times during the diagonal grapevine section...
Update: my legs are over it, now my arms are angry. But I like to imagine the muscles magically dissolving all the fat around them while they scream (yes, it probably doesn't work like that, but I like my illusion).
I love your illusion. Do you mind if I borrow it? It means that it's the fat that's screaming - not the muscles at all. Love it!
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