I stumbled into the fitness world later in life. Sure, I played soccer as a kid—but “played” is a generous term for my time running around aimlessly on a field with other eight-year-olds in matching shirts. My dreams of Olympic glory in track and field went up in smoke during high school when the sheer amount of effort needed to reach the podium hit me like a ton of bricks. And let’s not even get started on my extensive ballet training, which consists of one fuzzy semester in preschool.
So, let’s just say I’m not the most graceful mom at the PTA meeting. However, my affection for physical activity has blossomed, and I now enjoy meeting friends for outdoor runs or weekly workout classes. This adventurous spirit has led me to try everything from Mommy and Me Yoga to Zumba, spin classes, and strength training. I’ve even tackled road races, triathlons, and six marathons. While I might not have been the most athletic kid, I can confidently say I’m in decent shape, or at least my exercise routine balances out my fondness for wine.
So, when my friend suggested a barre class, I thought it would be a cinch. After all, I’ve braved swimming in murky lakes, conquered the infamous mile 20 of a marathon, and survived yoga sessions with a toddler throwing a tantrum. How hard could ballet-inspired moves with a group of fellow moms possibly be?
Oh boy, was I mistaken. The barre was set high, folks.
What is Barre?
For the uninitiated, barre classes have taken the fitness world by storm, combining ballet-inspired movements, core strengthening, and flexibility exercises. Imagine a mix of Pilates with a ballet barre, trying to balance a book on your head while surrounded by mirrors—there’s no hiding from your own reflection while a peppy instructor chirps, “Pulse, pulse, hold!” into her headset.
These classes are no joke.
On my first day, my friend encouraged me to arrive early to get acquainted with the equipment. Naturally, I scoffed at the idea of needing assistance with a ballet barre. But upon entering the beautifully designed studio with its shiny hardwood floors, I realized I was way out of my element.
After shelling out for those “grippy” socks, presumably to keep clumsy folks like me from tumbling over like newborn giraffes, my charming instructor showed me around. There were tiny red exercise balls, yoga mats, and these circular resistance tubes that would soon be strapped around my legs.
Even as I strapped those tubes around my thighs, which barely fit, I decided to be a good sport. Plus, my friend promised coffee afterward at the local café. So, I took my place at the barre and braced myself.
In hindsight, I wish I had pursued more dance lessons beyond that church multipurpose room where a sweet old lady taught me to plié. While the other women in class struck elegant poses to some odd Beyoncé remix, I was sputtering curses, tripping over my own feet, and hearing the instructor cheer, “Keep it up, Jenna!” which felt like a backhanded compliment. The other moms, sporting shirts with slogans like “Barre Goals” and “Barre Crawl,” suppressed giggles while I desperately tried not to injure myself as I wrestled with the resistance bands.
Let’s be real, I was terrible at barre class. I mean, really terrible. I was the only one muttering “Forget this!” through most of the class, and my “messy bun” resembled a post-explosion mattress. But, surprisingly, I gradually started to get the hang of it—mostly.
By the end of the session, I felt surprisingly relaxed and energized, convinced that my mom abs would eventually benefit from all that holding and tucking. To my astonishment, I genuinely enjoyed my first barre class. As soon as I could pry myself off the mat, I signed up for a class package, much to the delight of the overly enthusiastic instructors. When my instructor kindly offered me tips and appreciated my humorous approach, I knew I’d be back, expletives and grippy socks included.
Sure, I still struggle with the moves, and I might be “Tucking!” when I should be “Holding and freezing!” but stepping out of my comfort zone each class is exhilarating. I’ve learned that while the classes are tough and I often feel like a clumsy elephant in a tutu, they teach me something new. Plus, I’ve made new friends. The ballerina moms are fierce, and they rock those bejeweled grippy socks.
While I’ve progressed to the point of not needing to curse under my breath, I can’t deny that I still feel like I’m taking my life into my hands when I hoist those red tubes up over my legs. And yes, I secretly want a shirt with a catchy barre slogan. Don’t judge.
Conclusion
In conclusion, barre classes may be a struggle for me, but they’ve opened up a new world of fitness and friendship. If you’re curious about home insemination, you can check out this informative post on our blog. And if you’re looking for quality tools to help with the journey, BabyMaker is a trusted source, while Johns Hopkins offers excellent resources on pregnancy and home insemination.