In the two months I've been a member of the gym, I've only missed one Wednesday. Yet in that time we've had four different instructors.
The first week was a gorgeous hippy blonde free-spirit type who made me want to come back. I haven't seen her since.
Week 2 was a fill in for week 2 who was on holidays. She was more technical, less alternative, and showed me a different take on Pilates. She made me want to come back.
New week, new instructor. This one had a questionable command of English, and no one in the class could understand a word she was saying. She made me want her to not come back.
4th - I had to miss due to a work conference.
5th, 6th & 7th, Miss week 2 was back. Aaaahhhhh the control, the awareness, the DOMS.
This week - the 8th - I was hoping to see Miss Technical again. Instead a big (and by big I mean overweight), loud, spiky blonde haired, tattooed kick boxer. And this class moved me to tears.
Instead of the usual Pilates format, she taught the class as a Les Mills "Body Balance", which is more yoga-based. It was bloody magnificent. Graceful. Difficult. Flowing. Challenging. I stretched in ways I thought long-gone. I relaxed into it, closed my eyes and felt my body surrendering all tension. And when the 45 minutes ended with a brief meditation, there were tears of release.
The loud kick chick knew she'd reached me. We hugged it out at the end of the class. As you do.
Was it timing? The instructor? Yoga? I don't have answers but I REALLY want to give yoga another try to find out.
Peace. Out.
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