Harry and Andrea

I visited an exercise class tonight called “Body Pump.”  For some reason the words body pump weren’t informative enough for me.  So, I asked at the front desk what kind of class this was going to be.  An employee, who just happens to be a former student of mine (a story of weirdness for another day), said, “It’s intimidating . . . , but don’t let it intimidate you.”  In a moment of bravery or insanity or just plain-old pride (clearly I couldn’t let a former student think that I was intimidate-able), I confidently made my way over to the classroom.  I was greeted at the door with a bag of halloween candy and a slightly overzealous, smiling, high-pitched teacher saying, “Are you coming to class??????”  I asked the teacher if this was an advanced class and she replied, “Oooooh, noooo,” and a twinkle in her eye that I managed to ignore.

And now, here we are.  An hour and fifteen minutes later, unable to move on the couch and willing the Aleve to teleport itself to the coffeetable with a glass of water.