Pilates -- the new word for pain

I want to apologize to everybody for not having updated this blog for the past 2 1/2 weeks, but I have been in a lot of pain lately.

After the start of the new year, I decided that I would set a goal to lose 30 pounds. In doing so, I thought I'd set a target date as well, and I've called it the "152 by 152" plan -- losing 30 pounds would get me to 152 pounds, and the 152nd day of the year is May 31, the day my daughter graduates from high school.

I'm working out, trying to change my diet and things are going a little slow right now, but I'm hoping to start seeing results soon (I'm holding off on switching to the Nicole Ritchie diet until April, if at all possible).

Recently, my local church began offering a Sunday evening pi-yo class, which combines pilates (pronounced pih-LAH-tees) and yoga in a 60-minute weekly workout.

What I didn't realize is that pilates is actually something that has its teachings in Hindu religions and has a specific English-translated meaning. That meaning is -- this is going to hurt like hell in the morning.

When you hear people talk about pilates and see it done on those commercials promoting so-and-so's new system for improved health, it seems like a good opportunity to burn calories, tone muscles and get you in better shape.

What it actually does, however, is stretch muscle groups you had no idea existed, put your body in positions God never planned on you being in and leaving you hot, sweaty and wondering if you have the chiropractor's number on speed dial.

Early in the first class, I realized that something was wrong when the instructor told us to stand on one leg, lift the other leg up to our knee, rotate the lifted leg 90 degrees, place our hands behind our back and bend forward.

"And don't forget to breathe," she reminded us in that soft, relaxing voice.

I stood on one leg, lifted the other leg about halfway up and fell on my ass. On my second attempt, I managed to balance myself long enough to get the second leg up, rotate it 90 degrees and somehow got my hands behind my back.

But, as I started bending forward, I began feeling light-headed. Soon, I was seeing stars. A few seconds later, I passed out and fell like an unbalanced handful of Jenga blocks.

I forgot to breathe.

After regaining consciousness, the instructor had us place our hands on our mats and assume a push-up position. We were supposed to hold that position for 10-15 seconds, then do a push-up and drop our hips so our spine looked like an inverted banana.

I used to be able to bench-press 1 1/2 times my weight, so I figured this shouldn't be much of a problem. I held the push-up position for approximately eight seconds when, without warning, my biceps and elbows decided they were going into business for themselves. Only the soft rubber mat below my body saved me from adding a visit to the plastic surgeon to repair a broken nose.

I positioned myself a second time, this time using the girls' push-up position (and I know right now what you're thinking . . . good God, I am such a wuss). I did the push-up and assumed the inverted banana position, feeling a small sense of pride that I was actually able to complete a move. What I wasn't prepared for, though, was the response my lower back would have for me when I was done with this specific exercise.

To put it in polite terms -- my lower back is not speaking to me right now. I REALLY wish I had the chiropractor's number on speed dial, even as I type this one day after class.

At the end of class, there are a group of "warm-down" exercises that are meant to help ease the stress and strain of the previous 45 minutes. There are some yoga exercises that are supposed to help bring a sense of peace and calm to your inner soul, leaving you feeling good physically, mentally and spiritually.

But as I lay there in the darkness, all I can think about is the throbbing in my back, the screaming pain in my legs and the knives that seem to be sticking out of every other joint in my body. Mentally, all I can do is question whether or not this is worth losing 30 pounds over, or if I'm better off with being satisfied with the way things are now. Spiritually -- I'm wondering what Jesus WOULD do . . . continue with the class, or beat the pilates instructor to death with a frozen chalupa.

The well-worn phrase for getting better physically is "no pain, no gain." I guess that, in order for me to get down to that desired weight by my daughter's graduation, I'm going to have to suffer in an effort to get myself down to 152 pounds by the end of May.

And I'm optimistic that I'll reach that goal -- provided, of course, that the chiropractor's office is open Sunday nights.