Walking down the street just now deep in thought I must have been having a private conversation with myself.
A man passes me and says "girl, you don't gotta talk to yourself. You can talk to me, girl. I'm right here."
Now there's a good pick up line!
Friday, November 14, 2008
We're Skipping, S-K-I-P-P-I-N-G
This morning I walked out the house heading to my favorite pilates class, as possibly the last Friday daytime class I can indulge in for a while. I stepped outside onto my front stoop to find that the weather, while damp after yesterdays rain, was rather lovely and warm. I stepped down to the sidewalk littered with fallen red and yellow leaves and immediately fell into a skip. And its resulting smile. What a sight I must have been - a grown thirty-something (my 31st birthday was last Saturday) in yoga pants, running shoes and a houndstooth coat with hands in her pockets, smile on her face, skipping down the streets of Brooklyn! But I couldn't stop. Skipping is addictive. I skipped all the way to the gym. Granted it's only three and a half blocks, but that's a long way to skip if you aren't 5 years old.
I was a rush of endorphins by the time I arrived at the gym and I kept thinking, why don't we do this more often? There should be gym classes that include skipping. My heart was racing and it felt like I'd achieved a nice pre-gym warmup.t
Elgin, my pilates instructor, was just locking up his bike when my springy steps bounced past. He looked up and asked, "were you just skipping?"
"I'm not gonna lie..."
"You're not gonna lie, you weren't skipping?"
"No, I really was. All the way from my house. It's very fun."
"Yah, it is! But I don't need to do anything that makes me more gay." (clearly this is not actually a concern of Elgin's, who taught the class in a bright yellow sleeveless, short and tight tee that proclaimed in red velvet Muscle Man, and who calls a move in the floor exercise the Surprise! - both legs open and close.
At the end of class I told him that if anyone could find a way to combine skipping into the structure it would be him and I would be the first to sign up.
Skipping also made me think of the only time I skipped class in high school (yes, I was such a nerd and received a perfect attendence award at graduation - luckily the slight I am about to detail was never included in my permanent record). It took place during a drama class that fell thru one of our lunch hours and that day a sub was in for Mrs. Martinez. There were three consecutive lunch periods at our school and on that day we started off in class, were meant to take the first lunch period and then return for the remainder of class. Only, we naughty kids never showed back up to class! All the while we sat on the front lawn happily singing "We're skipping, we're skipping, s-k-i-p-p-i-n-g, we're skipping." Oh, what rebels we were. I'm pretty sure the sub told Mrs. Martinez and we got a lecture later. But that day, it was all full of the same skipping endorphins as those acheived hopping and slidding and bouncing down the street.
I was a rush of endorphins by the time I arrived at the gym and I kept thinking, why don't we do this more often? There should be gym classes that include skipping. My heart was racing and it felt like I'd achieved a nice pre-gym warmup.t
Elgin, my pilates instructor, was just locking up his bike when my springy steps bounced past. He looked up and asked, "were you just skipping?"
"I'm not gonna lie..."
"You're not gonna lie, you weren't skipping?"
"No, I really was. All the way from my house. It's very fun."
"Yah, it is! But I don't need to do anything that makes me more gay." (clearly this is not actually a concern of Elgin's, who taught the class in a bright yellow sleeveless, short and tight tee that proclaimed in red velvet Muscle Man, and who calls a move in the floor exercise the Surprise! - both legs open and close.
At the end of class I told him that if anyone could find a way to combine skipping into the structure it would be him and I would be the first to sign up.
Skipping also made me think of the only time I skipped class in high school (yes, I was such a nerd and received a perfect attendence award at graduation - luckily the slight I am about to detail was never included in my permanent record). It took place during a drama class that fell thru one of our lunch hours and that day a sub was in for Mrs. Martinez. There were three consecutive lunch periods at our school and on that day we started off in class, were meant to take the first lunch period and then return for the remainder of class. Only, we naughty kids never showed back up to class! All the while we sat on the front lawn happily singing "We're skipping, we're skipping, s-k-i-p-p-i-n-g, we're skipping." Oh, what rebels we were. I'm pretty sure the sub told Mrs. Martinez and we got a lecture later. But that day, it was all full of the same skipping endorphins as those acheived hopping and slidding and bouncing down the street.
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