Tuesday, May 12, 2015

Trampercising

During a recent visit to my sister Ber’s house, she talked me into going to a trampoline aerobics class, called Sky-robics, with her at Sky Zone.  I had previously been to Sky Zone to attend my nephew’s birthday, but hadn’t participated in any activities besides cake-eating.

As a CrossFitter, I wasn’t worried about the difficulty of the class, but I was worried about pissing myself in front of a group of strangers.  So to prep for our trampercising, we made sure we had a little protection in the pants region.  Because babies.  After putting on our industrial strength pads, signing safety waivers, and changing into our special grippy socks, we made our way up to the tramps, choosing two of the square trampolines in the back of the class area.  The area we were in is set up in a huge grid that is 6 trampolines deep, and 30 trampolines long.  Between every other trampoline is a padded walk-way that is roughly 2 feet wide.

Our tiny, blonde instructor, Princess Thigh-Gap, began the warmup of jumping in different angular patterns in our personal area.  I felt maybe a little cocky.  Because I wasn’t peeing, and, besides the tightness in my calves, I was feeling great.  My only concern, aside from the risk of a rogue escaping boob, was that this shit certainly was not functional movement.

I had forgotten that aerobics instructors don’t coach, they cue, and it’s considered perfectly normal to have a conversation with one person in the class, while ignoring everyone else.  I also forgot that participants don’t typically ask questions to an instructor, the way you can in a CrossFit class.  This last point was made clear to me as the other women stared at me while I asked questions about our next activity: Rouncing.

Rouncing was described to us as a cross between running and bouncing.  But really it was galloping with obstacles.  Princess Thigh-Gap explained that it was perfectly fine to Rounce with the same leg forward the whole time.  I guess developing quad dominance in one leg is no big thing in the tramping world.

Our group was split up between the novice and expert Rouncers.  The experts had a bit of a smug attitude as they made their way to their side of the grid.  Because I’m an idiot, I volunteered to start off the Rouncing for the novices.  And I immediately learned that my special socks were too big, as they slipped off my feet and I fell on my face.  I bounced back up onto my feet, looked at the class, and said, “Just like that, ladies.”  No. One. Laughed.

I kept going, and got into rhythm just in time to have to jump over the padded walkway and fell again.  And again.  And again.  Finally I went down to the front desk to ask for smaller socks.  The cashier was gone.  After waiting for what felt like a long time, I snuck behind the desk, grabbed new socks, turned around and found myself face-to-face with the cashier.  Of course he decided to show up then.  He laughed about it and sent me on my way.

I returned to Rounce with my fellow Rouncers and continued to fall repeatedly.  Because coordination is not one of my strengths.

We were finally able to return to an individual square for some work with Medicine Balls and bands.  The Medicine Balls proved to be quite simple, as long as you can catch a weighted ball flying at your face.  The bands, however, were horrible.  We were told to wrap them twice around our calves.  Ber and I giggled about not being into bondage while the rest of class gave us the side-eye.  We were instructed to squat with our legs in bands, on a trampoline.  Fine, no problem.  But as I looked around, not one person was squatting below parallel!  Those were not squats, Princess Thigh-Gap, those were barely even dips.  This is the point when I remembered that I hate aerobics classes, and realized that CrossFit has ruined me for other forms of exercise.

We made it through the floor exercise portion, favoring the part where we laid down and laughed at our hilarious jokes.  Then it was time for more Rouncing.  Shit.  Princess Thigh-Gap gave the novices the option of jumping wide and narrow rather than a true Rounce, if we found Rouncing too difficult.  Ber and I chose this option, and I let her go first this time.

I went a little too quickly behind Ber.  She fell down at the half-way point, and I didn’t realize until I was in mid-air that I was going to fall right on top of her.  Horrified, I hit the brakes, and tried to swim to a stop.  I landed on top of her, but also sort of all around her.  We toppled over into a pile of laughter.

“Ladies, if you are going to be on the ground, you are going to need to move to the side,” Princess Thigh-Gap admonished.

“We just got yelled at during Rouncing!” I laughed to Ber.

We finished our class, and neither of us had peed our pants.  My boobs stayed in place for the most part, but my back was definitely in bad shape.

My chiropractor, who I visited as quickly as possible after arriving back home, lectured me and said that I am, under no circumstances to attend another Sky-robics class.  While the experience of trying a new activity was fun and hilarious, I am not disappointed.  But I will be bringing Ber with me to CrossFit next time she comes to visit me.


Try something new.  Don’t take yourself too seriously.  And thank you for keeping me In Good Company.

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