Joy of Teachers

Despite yesterday's Argentinian food fest for our wedding anniversary, I bounced out of the flat this morning, all excited about Cycle class. Cycle class--which is probably called spin class everywhere else--is a killer, but it's great fun. My favourite Cycle teacher, dark-haired, tiny, and mad, can whip up the class into a frenzy of cycling and sweat. When she says "Turn up that dial," I actually do it.

Usually during Cycle class I try to think only about what the teacher is yelling over the music, but today it occurred to me that the reason why the old run-for-half-an-hour, lift-weights-for-half-an-hour routine no longer inspires is because I'm alone at home all day working on highly stressful news, and the last thing I need is another hour alone with myself and my thoughts. I need classes---especially as I can't get to Polish night school any more.

Maybe this is the secret of getting fit: you experiment with a lot of activities and beginners' classes and then commit to the ones that are right for you right now. Teachers are a big part of that, for me, since I am the sort of student who either wants to become the teacher or wants to avoid them altogether. (I'm trying to get some balance there, however.)

Teachers should inspire, and today I was inspired by this video because it showed what the human body is capable of. Well, that human body anyway. Starting ballet at three is probably a good way to work up to this:

All bodies are different, of course, just as all brains are different. I like the idea of trying to achieve the healthiest brain and body I can manage. Benedict Ambrose is happy just walking to and from work and having the occasional hike or bike ride. But then he's from a line of tiny, thin Scots, whereas I have the 300+ lb spectre of German-American Great-Aunt Tilly hulking in the back of my  mind, drinking endless cans of cherry cola.