Fit-ish? Currently More "Ish" Than Fit

Dear Body,

Wueh!

Does everything hurt, or what?

Properly kick-starting my fitness journey has exposed just how unfit I have become, and my muscles appear to be planning legal action.

But somewhere between the groaning and complaining, I checked my Garmin and discovered that I had reached 10,000 steps on five out of seven days.

So perhaps I'm not entirely unfit. Maybe there is a little "fit" hiding inside the "ish" after all.

I have my history of school sports, college dancing and sporadic aerobics and Zumba classes to thank for that. And, if I am completely honest with myself, I actually enjoy walking and exercising. That happy-hormone rush after a workout always gives me a high I could happily chase day after day.

So, walking was a major win this week: 71,315 steps in total—an average of 10,188 steps per day.

Yay!

But this is a Fit-ish journey, and part of the deal is to diversify my movement and establish a more structured exercise routine.

First stop: mat Pilates.

If you have ever watched fit people doing Pilates, you know how graceful and flexible they look. More importantly, they make it appear completely effortless.

So, nani kama mimi—who else but me? Off to class I went.

On a fitness scale of one to ten, I performed at a cool four.

Clearly, I am not as fit as I thought I was, and my body wasted no time telling on me. To whom, I don't know.

All I know is that I could not complete all the repetitions. If the instructor called for two sets of ten sit-ups, I managed a maximum of seven sit-ups—in total.

Then the instructor asked us to collect the exercise balls from the corner.

Yay, I thought. This should make things easier.

The balls were also a lovely bright orange—my favourite colour. Surely, this was going to be fun.

Was I wrong, or what?

Those exercises were hard as hell. Apparently, balancing my body weight on one of those balls requires skills beyond my brain's comprehension—at least this week.

I fumbled. I fell. I did all manner of other F-word things.

But I stayed the course.

I told myself, "Chick, you dressed up and showed up. Now stay."

The instructor was kind enough to modify a few exercises to suit my fitness level, which I appreciated because I was the only beginner in the class.

Unlike the main gym, where I sometimes feel as though people are staring at me with condescending eyes when I struggle with something, fitness classes tend to feel more supportive. People give you encouraging looks and, if the instructor is as kind as this one was, you may even receive a little extra help.

After the workout, I checked my stats:

• Average heart rate: 96 bpm
• Calories burned: 179
• Duration: 49 minutes and 13 seconds

I could almost hear one of my super-fit friends, who has sadly since passed away, saying:

"You might as well have called a friend and gone for coffee. Those are not stats to share."

But hey, this is not a competition for the highest heart rate or the most calories burned. If that were my goal, I would have signed up for a reality television show such as The Biggest Loser.

But I didn't.

This is about my journey towards becoming fitter and chasing those happy hormones the sweaty, legitimate way.

So, what do I have to show for this week?

Achy feet—damn, my feet hurt.

Achy knees—what is going on there? Who sent my knees the "I'm almost 50" memo?

And newly discovered muscles in my thighs, my core and a few places I am too shy to mention. Because Pilates does that to you: it introduces you to muscles you never even knew existed.

Happiness level at the end of the week?

Very high.

I feel accomplished and delighted that I finally got started with this whole gym-and-walking thing.

But what about the elephant in the room?

Are you all wondering how things are going in the food department?

Can we not just celebrate the steps?

Yours—aching but oddly delighted, Me