Vital
Pilates:
By E.J. Ruskin
Last fall I’d had enough of feeling worn out and achy all the time. And the novelty of being squishy had worn off. When I mentioned this to my pal Marion, who engages in all kinds of activities, uh, forms of exercise, she just said: “Pilates.” It was, she further said, a great form of exercise and would do wonders for my annoying hip and lower-back pain. I had delved into Pilates in the old days (mid-’90s) when I was healthy and fit, and loved it. Back then, body parts didn’t hurt without discernible reason.
I Googled “Pilates classes in Manhattan” and saw there were more than 190,000 hits. Hmmm … how to choose? With a little legwork and lots of word-of-mouth, I found an organization called Power Pilates, which got rave reviews from Pilates adherents. It also had a reputation for excellence in the training and certifying of classical Pilates instructors. (Learning from those who train the instructors seemed prudent – like getting healthcare at a teaching hospital.) I was psyched.
Power Pilates recommended that I begin with a few Introduction-to-Mat classes and a few private Pilates sessions. These Introduction-to-Mat classes, and few private sessions would familiarize me with the movements and language of Power Pilates, which are unique. I decided to skip all of them, and take their multi-level Open Mat class.
There were six students in the class. They were friendly and came in all shapes and sizes. Our instructor, Apu, knew everyone, and checked on how their various injuries were healing. She asked whether I was new to Pilates and whether I had any injuries she should know about. There was something very calming and centered about her.
Twenty minutes into class my heart was pounding. “Roll-ups” and “roll-downs” (movements that strengthen core muscles – important for all sorts of reasons) had become the enemy. I looked around; no one else was gasping for air.
I experienced this as a Rude Awakening. My strength, stamina, and flexibility were gone. (Actually I was never flexible). Apparently, Pilates at 50, after years of inactivity, was going to be a different experience from Pilates at 35, when I had exercised regularly. Go figure. I took a deep breath, a long nap, and acknowledged that this, like everything else, would take discipline and commitment. I planned to take another class the following day.
Weeks later I finally returned. This class was larger and feistier. It included a man who said he was in his early 60s and had practiced Pilates for decades. He looked seriously fit. I moved my mat to the other side of the room.
Several non-models of various ages were laughing at something said by a woman draped over a giant rubber ball. All had taken Pilates before; most were regulars, taking classes or Privates two or three days a week. Several had sampled classes elsewhere, but said they preferred Power Pilates: the quality of instruction was uniformly high, and there was a broad selection of both classes and instructors.
I said I was new to mat classes, and was really nervous about being so out of shape. They reassured me that fitness levels varied widely in the room, and that I’d be able to keep up. The draped one said keeping up was overrated and not the point. I moved my mat toward hers.
Over the next few weeks, I thought about her comment. She followed along with the class, but deviated when she needed to. Sometimes she slowed the pace of her movements, other times she stopped altogether and stretched. I couldn’t help but grin when I watched her. After that I became slightly more sensible, and tried to remember that change often requires baby steps.
One evening, I left the studio at the same time as a woman, Ami, who appeared to be my age. I told her I didn’t feel like I was getting the hang of things, and asked about her experience. She said, with a fairly straight face, that she’d been coming regularly for a year, and hadn’t progressed at all. Ami’s mother had told her that the only appropriate sport for a nice Jewish girl was reading, and until starting Pilates last year, she had never exercised. (Fortunately, her mom didn’t consider walking a sport). On the upside, all that reading paid off: She earned a PhD. and currently runs a major department in a large New York teaching hospital.
Ami was bullied into Pilates. She had back and hip pain like the rest of us. Climbing out of bed hurt, as did picking up dropped pens. A friend set up her first private session, following Ami’s prerequisite that it be with the oldest instructor on staff. She liked the equipment because it helped support her, allowing her to work on painful areas. Ami stuck with that instructor, taking one private session and one Intro-to-Mat class every week for the next eight months. Finally, she took a chance on another (older) instructor, and switched to an Open Mat class. Three months later, she added a third class each week, which made a big difference. Ami is now fanatical about coming three times a week. And she no longer dreads dropping pens.
I also spoke with a woman named Robin whose story is completely different from mine and from Ami’s. Robin is a spectacular-looking, six-foot-tall blonde dancer. She has taught, choreographed, danced Off-Broadway and in Las Vegas.
Let’s just say she has always been in fabulous shape and knows how to take care of herself and to pace herself. She received her Pilates Mat Certification (from Power Pilates) in 2003. Robin started practicing Pilates when she was a professional dancer, and continues to take classes (not just teach them) because it’s one of the important ways in which she takes care of herself.
These days, taking a dance class leaves Robin with back and knee pain. But a Pilates mat class leaves her feeling “wonderful,” even if she hasn’t taken a class for months. “Pilates is specifically designed not to stress joints, and,” Robin says, “actually works! Don’t get frustrated when you can’t follow the movements; take it in baby steps. It’ll sink in.” She says it took her a while to figure out, and she’s a dancer, teacher, and choreographer. Robin says it helped her to ask herself: “What are they trying to get me to do here?” “Pilates requires patience and learning about your body. There’s no instant gratification; it’s a mind-body thing, and it takes time.”
In January, inspired by Robin, Ami, and the woman who had been draped over a giant rubber ball, I added one or two private sessions to my weekly schedule. It made a gigantic difference. My instructor, Irina, is a 20-something former rhythmic gymnast from the Ukraine. And, yes, she is fabulous looking. She is also incredibly focused and is able to explain precisely how I should execute various movements.
I recommend working with just one instructor as a beginner. I like it that Irina knows my abilities and can anticipate my trouble-spots. She understands how difficult starting over is for me, and is consistently encouraging. Her positive attitude is contagious. She’s fun to work with, but is deadly serious about the work.
When I took another Open Mat class with Apu last week, she commented on how much I’d improved. I laughed when I thought about it. I hadn’t taken a class with her for months, so the slow improvement in my form, energy level, and flexibility (baby steps, remember) must have added up. It’s also possible that I groaned less (or more quietly).
Who knew? Movement really does heal.
E.J. Ruskin is a sculptor and freelance writer.
