Bosu Balls

I started two different exercise classes a few weeks ago.  An office space where I work has been converted into a fitness facility, and I signed up.

Bad idea.

My Tuesday afternoon class is called Core Fusion, and my Wednesday morning class is called Tabata Drills.  These names are misleading.

The classes should be called “Torture Using Household Objects”.


My instructor uses objects that look benign.  She makes us lie down on our backs, and squeeze a large ball between our knees.  Then we have to hold our legs up in the air.

This is not a problem for me to do.  For the first ten seconds.

It is the last 3 minutes and 50 seconds that hurt a lot.

If you don’t believe me, try it.


She uses something called a Bosu Ball.  It is an inflated hemisphere.  She likes to use them.  I hate them.

This is what a Bosu Ball looks like:


She uses them for balance exercises.  So we step up onto an inflated hemisphere, and try to balance.

I fall over.

Today, she made us turn them over, and do push ups on them.  It was like doing push-ups on a see-saw.  I had no problem doing this for 10 seconds.

It was the last 3 minutes and 50 seconds that hurt a lot.  I thought about vomiting on her Bosu Ball.

Einstein’s Theory of Relativity states that time can speed up or slow down, depending upon what you are doing.  For example, if you are on vacation on a tropical island, a week goes by in the blink of an eye.

If I am doing push-ups on a Bosu Ball, 4 minutes feels like an eternity.


To make matters worse, my instructor loves this stuff.

I can see her out of the corner of my eye.  She is laughing at me.


Everyone else in these classes has some experience doing this.  So when my instructor says “now we are going to do sideways planks, starting from the downward dog position”,  everyone else jumps into the proper position.

And I say “huh?!”

My classmates wear spandex.

They are fit.

They can touch their toes.

Some of them can touch their toes with the palms of their hands.

I think one lady can touch her toes with her elbows.

This is a flexible group of people.

The last time I touched my toes without hurting myself, I was going to Northeast High School.

That was in a prior century.


This is my first experience taking exercise classes.  I have learned that there is an “exercise instructor language”.  I did not realize it at first, but now I understand.

So when my instructor says “let’s start with a little bit of warm-up activity”, what she means is that we are going to do a triathlon.

When she says “now we are going to stretch”, what she means is that I am going to tear something.

When she says “now we are going to work on balance”, it means that I am going to fall over.

When she says “now we are going to work on abs”, it means that I am going to cry.

And when she asks “how are you doing, Hal?”, she should not bother calling 911.  She should skip the middleman and just call the coroner.


I work on the second floor of my office building.  There is a flight of steps upstairs.

I can barely climb the steps on Wednesday mornings……


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