- December 25, 2024
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I have a love-hate relationship with the gym. When I am there, I love it. Throw in some headphone and some jams, and I get into a rhythm. It’s a good escape. But working out by myself, I tend to get lazy. If I don’t want to do that last rep, sometimes, eh, I just don’t do it.
To get that extra motivation, I have been exploring group exercise classes throughout the county: hot yoga, ballet barre, TRX, Zumba, cycling. While I enjoy most of the workouts (except for Zumba — I felt like I was stuck in a perpetual Latin line dance that I didn’t know the steps to), sometimes I find it hard to go back. Either the timing doesn’t work, or it’s not an encouraging environment.
A couple weeks ago, a friend of mine, Mandy, who pretty much lives at the gym and tries to recruit everyone she knows, invited me to join her in a class at Atlantic Fitness. She told me the class was fun and different and a great core workout.
The class was essentially aerial yoga; except on this night, there was a special instructor with a new workout: Fly Gym.
Fly Gym programs are practiced using a set of supportive fabric slings that are hung from the ceiling. This helps improve strength and body awareness, increase joint mobility, decompress the spine, and gives the opportunity to find creativity and joy in physical activity.
I was pretty excited about it going in. All the benefits of yoga without the pressure on my knee or the decompression on my spine sounded like heaven on earth. I had visions of myself elegantly flying through the air, doing twists and hanging upside down, and looking beautiful while I did it.
When I got to class, I learned how to wrap myself into the apparatus. I thought, "I can do this!" The beginning was great, getting a feel for the suspension, twisting with the support of one foot or leg anchored to the ground. I was working muscles that had been neglected for a long time.
As the class progressed, the fabric slings were moved around to work various areas, at one point, I think I lost circulation in my arm, at another point, the fabric turned into a harness, which was less than pleasurable.
I was starting to second-guess my excitement.
At the end, we finally got to hang upside down. This is what my fourth-grade upside-down-monkey-bar-swinging self had been waiting for. I moved my slings up and clipped them, triple checking to make sure I wouldn’t fall on my head, and followed the instructions. Sitting in the fabric, I was able to position my legs along the fabric to stabilize me, and I slowly unfolded my spine and allowed myself to hang freely.
This is what I was waiting for.
I hung there, eyes closed, taking in the deep stretch of my spine, trying to trust the equipment. Once all the blood started rushing to my head, I thought it best to get back up. I was pretty proud of myself for my hang time.
Then I looked to my right, and there was Mandy, doing flips. Maybe one day, if I can work through the pain of the fabric digging into my body, I will be flipping, too.
