Friday, April 24, 2009

Go Pogo!

If you read my blog, you are aware that I will try almost anything in the name of fitness.  Even jogging (which I bailed on after one session, because let's face it:  jogging sucks).  

I have tried African dance (which didn't go so well), aqua size (a paddle pool full of old biddies), pole dancing, boxing, cycling, yoga, and hot pilates just to name a few.  I have tried everything.  And then yesterday, I tried the mother of all kooky workouts set out to make the worker-outer have fun and not notice they are sweating like a pig:  POGO. 

That's right, pogo.  As in the stick we all bounced on as kids.  You should be getting warning signs in your head right about now.  If you know me at all, you know that attempting pogo was the last thing I should have done.

I am a klutz. I don't fall snowboarding, no, I fall when I am standing still in the chairlift line. Just the other day, I took a nasty fall while walking the Engineer and dogs, tripping on . . . NOTHING.  I mean this is the girl who looked like a hyena with Tourettes at African dance.  I should have listened to my own warning bells.

Except the most amazing thing happened.  I rocked.

It was so unexpected.  I mean I had dropped my pogo stick as I was digging it out of the supply room.  I banged my knee when we were doing 'toe taps' on it.  So it was a complete shock that I could actually pogo. When I got both feet on, something miraculous happened.  Something deep within the nature of my being nudged that kid in me that used to hop around the neighborhood, and I could bounce.

I must say, it is the funnest workout EVER.  You just jump around the gym on a pogo stick.  The teacher was impressed by my pogo dexterity, citing the fact it took her 45 minutes to get the hang of it.  None of the other girls could bounce for more than one jump.  I ruled class.

Our teacher set up an 'obstacle course' involving running back and forth to get boxes, push ups, sit ups and pogo bouncing.  She said the first person to tap the wall was the winner.  And that other inner kid in me, the one who loved competition, made its ugly appearance.  I raced with every fibre of my being to be the winner.  To do those push ups faster than the other women in the class.  To bounce in a straight line.  To tap the wall and be declared a winner.  Because I AM A WINNER.  

The sweet victory was mine and I bounced around in circles to celebrate. I blew everyone else out of the water and it felt good.  Just like those races at those gym things in school, I beat everyone with my sheer focus and will.  I AM A WINNER.

There were three of us in class.  But still, I beat the other two so I am still the overall champion.

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