The story of my incredible pain

Yesterday morning I woke up with no real aches and pains to speak of – which is quite fortunate at my age. Also quite rare. It was good but there was a nagging voice in my head reminding me that I had been promising myself to find such an ache free day to go to a Body Pump class at the gym for the last 145 Mondays.

Pump is my favourite gym class. I get to use the present tense although I hadn’t been for about ten years, simply because it’s still my favourite class. Also the only class I have attended since I was 16.

It focuses on low weight loads and high repetition movements and covers all the major muscle groups one upbeat track at a time. It’s a great class because you don’t have time to get bored or too tired – as soon as the track changes you move onto another muscle group and then you just have to get to the end of that song – and huzzah you’re done.

So I got my gym clothes out of the very bottom of the discarded clothes pile, popped on my gym shoes and made my way. I go to the gym quite often but I stick to the treadmill and the machines that don’t require group participation and I look at the communal classes and I feel like an alien. Body Pump requires all sorts of equipment gathering so I had to get there early, gather a step and weights and a barbell and courage and all of that kind of stuff. And then pretend I wasn’t slightly awestruck by how many people attended classes at 9:30am when there are perfectly good beds they could sleep in.

The class began and I was reminded what it was about this class used to love. The loud music, the repetitive motions, the fact that if you squinted at a certain angle it looked like I knew what I was doing. The fact that the class was so full I couldn’t see the mirror

I was having a ball. I felt like Olivia Newton John in Physical.

I was surprised at how strong I was, how fit I seemed, I was really managing to do this class. Even though my weights could best be described as er, lights, I was blitzing this class. I didn’t miss many beats.
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When it came to an end I could hardly believe it, I decided next time I would be using heavier weights, I clearly hadn’t lost my Body Pump touch, or strength. What do they say about pride and falling?

I walked out with a smile, told the instructor I loved her (I’m one of those people) and went to get my keys and wallet. It was when I got to the stairs to go down to my car that I realised I was in big trouble. My feet couldn’t actually do the downward motion. I had lost all ability to walk down stairs. I shuffled over to the side and held on to the railing. I considered sitting down for a few days, or maybe phoning my husband and telling him to come and rescue me. I think it was my shame that eventually got me to the car.

As the day progressed the pain got worse.

Lying in bed last night I thought I had contracted man flu – my pain was intense and I could not stop complaining. When I eventually fell asleep (after taking codeine based pain relievers) I dreamt that I was in hospital undergoing surgery.

I have realised that I am not fit and I am not strong. But I can point out every single muscle that I worked yesterday. Well I can’t actually point because triceps, biceps and shoulder muscles are involved and I can’t move those. But I can tell you they are sore.

I will go back as soon as I can move again. Give me another 145 Mondays.