Filed under: Sports
I remember years ago, when I thought I was a real athlete. Actually, I probably was a real athlete. I did about 20 hours of training a week, on average, while holding down a job and studying. 12.5 percent body fat. Fit. Athletic. In a national team.
Times changed, I moved on, ended up hating weights because of my shoulder injury, and became bored with going through endless sessions in smelly, bland environments with little success or results. After shopping around a while, I decided to check out Les Mills.
Let’s cut a long story short. I attend Body Jam. Body Jam is a class based on hip hop that mixes different dance styles like salsa and jazz into an exercise routine. Its lead choreographer is a character called Gandalf, a goateed, personable, rhythm maestro with a penchant for glamorous hats, and shoes that are so cool they should probably be illegal. He has a band of instructors who somehow manage to make exercise continue to seem fun even if you’re wishing like hell the music would stop, so you could curl up in a ball beside the water cooler and die.
I often look around the class and wonder how such a diverse range of people ended up in the same place, trying to keep up with moves that are added, one on one, gradually building into an actual dance routine. I’m old. Many of the people in there with me are older. How do the instructors tolerate this? Actually, I recall now that Gandalf has called me out a few times for looking like something out of Richard Simmons.
Regardless, I keep going back to the gym because I enjoy the spectacle and the music. Over time, I’ve managed to figure out a few moves and had some help from instructors if I’m totally screwing it up. I still don’t have the body I want or the fitness I’d like to recover, but I now have a sense of humour and a developing sense of coordination that I would not have thought possible.
Body Jam is not my exercise solution to the damage I’ve done to myself over the years, but it’s certainly an improvement on my previous gym experiences. This is exercise wrapped up in entertainment, and I’m hooked. There’s something about Body Jam that works, and I have a feeling that it’s that unrequitted dream of wanting to be the cool kid, when you never had the moves or the confidence to be that person.
How good is a routine that makes you work without thinking that you’re exercising?
Filed under: Surfing
A while back I decided that I would take up surfing. Notwithstanding the fact that I am uncoordinated on two feet, and hate the thought of drowning in the ocean, I had decided it was one way to do sport in water without ending up with outrageous tan lines. Superficial, I know.
I sold my canoe polo kayak, kept the paddles and all other gear (because let’s face it, I’ll probably end up playing again) and bought a surfboard. It’s a 7′6 mini mal, with a snub nose, a few patch repairs and a history with this colourful character Martin, out at the Muriwai Surf School. I should mention I had lessons with Martin because I have since forced all of my friends to have lessons there- not because I am a sterling example of the results of his expertise, but because I have enough trouble myself without being responsible for other people.
Every time I finish a lesson with Martin, or one of my friends finishes a lesson with Martin, he hands out a surf magazine. I get Curls, my friends get some other thing, usually with a DVD on it. I never get around to watching the movie and I always forget to read the magazine. If I ever do get to read it, I feel disappointed.
Everyone’s bitching about something or other- not enough money, complaints about sexism, the whole competition factor and exotic locations. I don’t see surfing like that, and in fact I don’t see it even as a decent image factor anymore. Once I step on the board and manage to get on a wave, white wash or otherwise, I’m so stoked with the result I have to get out there again.
I don’t feel that way about reading about surfing. I start to notice editing errors, I get annoyed with the political notions, I feel frustrated with the injustice of life in general, and I can’t for the life of me even fathom trying to pull off some trick by reading a column and memorising it. Hell, I’m not even out the back yet.
I suppose I should actually write something for them and see if they would publish it. I know as a beginner, all I want is to know what I’m doing and whether that’s going to set me up, or set me back. How many times did I do something stupid when I was learning? What board should I get? What’s a good surf lesson? That sort of thing.
I think there might be a niche for a magazine or writing that isn’t into hype or personality, or into backbiting and getting into the nitty gritty that isn’t surfing. That niche probably consists of one person- me. But if you find a mag that’s about surfing, and worth reading- doesn’t denigrate women, humour not at someone’s expense, lacking the pastiche cliches and formulaic posturing- let me know. I’ll be interested. Meanwhile, I’ll be checking out the swells and seeing if there’s anyone who wants to go with…
