Do you know what bass is?

No, not the fish.

BASS- where your ass meets your back and you can’t tell the difference.

Ew. Why are you sharing this, Queen of Quirky?

Because words such as bass, butterflies, fire hydrants, bridges  and planks that used to conjure up neutral, if not pleasant feelings (who doesn’t like butterflies?) now conjure up images of pain and fear.

Fear that I might get a bass.

Pain so that I might not.

Rinse and repeat.

These things happen at noon. And I hate them. But I love them.

Readers, meet my latest work-out obsession: Poolside Fitness Class. Otherwise known as the nooner.

This whole mess was started when I decided to train for another marathon. Holy geebers, remember that disaster? Why would I want to do that again?!

I don’t know. I clearly have a problem.

Luckily this time, my marathon was put on hold due to a stupid injury to my hip. An injury that involved hours of physical therapy in which a good looking dude, close to my age, spent 10 minutes a session waving an ultrasound wand on my lower right hip bone. This was very awkward.

I mean he is a nice dude, but usually when I meet nice dudes my age, I keep my pants above my hips.

It also meant I couldn’t run for a few months.

First I cried. Then I drank some vodka. Then I cried some more. I decided vodka wasn’t going to make anything better, so I decided to enlist in spin class.

Have you ever taken a spin class?

They are awful. And wonderful.

During the first class, I learned that even though I do have ample padding on my rear, in order to continue taking said class, I would need to add more padding. True story.

I also tried not to pass out on the bike. That was my main goal: keep moving without passing out.

During the second class (gel bike seat now in possession), I learned that there was a monitor in front of us playing video of what I could only imagine was supposed to be images of Mexico. I think we were supposed to be looking at it and imagining we were riding through Mexico. Or maybe Africa. (Clearly I have some geographical challenges going on.) I don’t know, there were elephants at one point.

I think.

Anyhow, the video was supposed to be inspiring.

So why did I want to throw a rock through it?

(Note: I don’t bring rocks to spin class, just so you know.)

During the third class I realized there were other people in the class who were really good at keeping up and following directions. They would probably look good riding a bike through Mexico with elephants cheering them on.

During the fourth class I realized I was never going to be good at the thing, but I had purchased the gel seat, and so as far as Amazon.com  was concerned, I was committed.

Also, the spin teacher knew my name.

It’s always bad when the director of pain knows your name. It’s kind of like when you go to a small Christian college where you can’t skip class because the teacher will run into you in the salad  bar line at lunch and ask you why you weren’t in class. Accountability. It sucks.

So there I was, going to spin class threeish times a week.

But that wasn’t enough.

I don’t know why, but it wasn’t.

Bring in the nooner.

And her.

Image courtesy of Scott Fitness

Yup. That’s my teacher.

You too can have a nooner with her.

But I would advise caution.

Unless you want pain.

Lots and lots of pain.

Also, she’s not going to go easy on you just because it’s your first time.

Let me paint an image of my first nooner (Please stop giggling at this. Let’s be grownups about this word.):

Enter QoQ.

Observes class. Everyone is on a big open floor area and has a set of hand-weights.

Not wanting to be overly ambitious, I grabbed the 3 lb weights. (You should know I have graduated to the 5lb. weights.)

And suddenly class was ON. And there was no stopping it.

I couldn’t press pause and go get a piece of cheese from the fridge. I had to do this thing. Crap.

The class starts with a bunch of jumping jacks.

After the 10th one, I felt pretty good. Ready to go home.

Oh noooooooo.

That was only the beginning. The beginning in which QoQ spent the next 50 minutes remembering basics such as you can tell your left side by making an L with your hand.

And how to count.

They aren’t kidding about that Kindergarten stuff.

Also, I fell over a lot. Specifically when doing a thing called a side plank. (Note, not sure why this image has two girls doing a side plank. Maybe it’s one of those things better done with a friend.)

I was pretty sure I was missing some ingredients necessary to hold myself up that way. I almost went to my doctor for an ultrasound.

But lo and behold, a few classes later, by accident, I’m pretty sure, I made it up for all of 20 seconds!

And then I was hooked.

Marathon? What marathon? Screw you 26.2 miles. I can do a side plank! (Note: I’m still trying for the half marathon, hip be damned!)

And so, dear readers, I’m pretty sure I may be one less side-plank away from having bass, but you can rest assure that I am putting myself through enough pain to enjoy my cheese and my whine too. I mean wine.