It would be fair to say that I am not in peak physical condition. (Please, do try to at least look surprised). Clearly I must take some responsibility for this deterioration of a body which, in its prime, was enviably taut and supple: after all, those Bourbons don’t march out of the biscuit tin by themselves, do they? However, in my defence, I am not solely to blame for this physical break-down. Two sets of twins in fifteen months created a rift in my stomach muscles that no amount of physiotherapy could solve.
As a result of this, there are various activities I cannot do, either because I am physically incapable of doing them (pushing a laden shopping trolley; getting out of the bath; sitting up in bed… I know, it’s like I’m 85 years old, isn’t it?) or because it would cause even more damage to my beleaguered torso (sit-ups, crunches, jumps…) This makes formal exercise classes a little tricky, but the instructor at my Wednesday morning class has been brilliantly flexible. She is quick to point out when a particular movement would be too much for my AWOL stomach muscles, and occasionally yells across the music, ‘not with your pelvic floor issues, Clare,’ which is helpful. In such instances, it is agreed that I will perform a simple ‘plank’ exercise. Consequently, I plank a lot. As the rest of the class leap and grunt around me, I balance on my forearms and contemplate the dust balls underneath the village hall storage heaters. Sometimes I count the floor boards. As the term has progressed, and my instructor has seen at first hand the strange shape my stomach takes on if I lean the wrong way, I have found myself planking more than a Travis Perkins apprentice. I am a Grade A planker.
Last week the instructor took me to one side after class. ‘I think perhaps,’ she said, ‘it might be a good idea if we thought about another class you could do.’ She looked a little uncomfortable.
‘Are you dumping me?’ I asked.
‘It’s not you,’ she said, ‘it’s the class. It’s too intense.’
‘I like intense,’ I said. ‘Don’t dump me. Please. I’ll change.’
My instructor shook her head sadly: we both knew that wouldn’t happen.
‘I’ll book you in for Pilates, shall I? You won’t be able to do it all, but you can always just do some planking.’