NOTE: THIS CLASS IS LISTED WITH A FREE TRIAL. THE FIRST CLASS IS AWKWARDLY NOT FREE.
Craving a day of activity and adventure, Evie and I planned to spend our day in three dance classes while our husbands worked. We had our dance shoes and bottles of water, and we headed to a favorite studio to take a class we'd never taken before, a class we both enjoy, and a class I've taken once before. We were going to pace ourselves so we wouldn't be exhausted until the end of the day. That plan fell apart within the first quarter of the first class.
This is a class best suited to old hippies who want to spend an hour going one speed: fast. The title suggests there will be some slow parts ("lounge"). Neither Evie nor I expected to have stiff necks as a result of the high impact warm up. We also didn't expect to have sore hip flexors from kicking our way across the floor. We didn't anticipate the group hug after the warm up or the non-stop jumping. We didn't expect the teacher to grab the backs of our heads to help us "feel" the light headbanging move. We didn't expect the "corrective" scratchy tickle fingers to help us improve our moves, and I totally didn't expect them two inches below my navel while I was crossing the floor. In our minds, the yoga influence listed on the website was more present, and maybe even parts of class would be reflective or meditative. We didn't expect the voluntary teaching assistant/fellow student to shove us to start moving across the floor or to bark corrections at us under the loud music. And we didn't expect to have to pay at the end of class since the website said it was a free trial class.
There were positives. I spent the morning with Evie, heading to brunch when we were both winded and sore from this class. We both jumped into the class with both feet, willing to try it (even if we didn't expect to spend the entire fucking class jumping). We determined this class wasn't the class for either of us. Most importantly, my social filter -- that ever thinning membrane that keeps me from saying everything I'm thinking -- is still there. When the teacher asked after class what would've made it a better experience for me, I didn't say what I was thinking: going to a different class instead.
No comments:
Post a Comment