Image: Keri Kitay PR.
My first thought when asked if I wanted to participate in a Physicore class was, ‘Hell, yeah I want to do Physicore’ then ‘Wait, what’s Physicore?’ then after Googling it, ‘Gee, they really missed an excellent pun opportunity by not using ‘Let’s Get Physicore’ as their tagline.
So that’s how I found myself very early one Wednesday morning, with ‘Let’s Get Physicore, Physicore, I wanna get Physicore’ stuck in my head looking at several foreign yet terrifying Pilates Reformer machines.
I’d just read the class had been dubbed ‘Pilates on crack,’ so in a clear cry for help I tweeted the below photo, captioning it, ‘These machines are in my near future. I’m scared.’
The instructor, who happened to be eight months pregnant, asked if anyone had slipped in a cheeky run before class. ‘Who is running before a class at 7am?’ I thought, holding back a chuckle. And then someone raised their hand. It was at this exact moment I realised I was not in Kansas anymore, and this class was probably going to hurt. A lot.
We began by mounting our machines, and taking what looked like an oar to hold for balance. Not being the most coordinated person in the world I struggled to do this. And we hadn’t even started moving yet.
Cat Rose, the instructor and co-founder, then demonstrated a series of exercises that targeted our legs. We started by sliding one leg into a backwards lunge. We then turned to the side and did our inner thighs, outer thighs and quads. After we had mastered these basic moves, Cat added in an arm element. So we were now moving our legs back and down and doing a bicep curl with resistance bands at the same time. Not a particulary easy thing to do for the most coordinated among us. The only thing that got me through this part of the class was that if a heavily pregnant woman could at least demonstrate these moves, I should be able to execute them.
I find most group classes to be isolating - just individuals who happen to be exercising in the same room, but there was a moment in the class where my neighbour and I turned to each other to silently acknowledge just how damn hard we were working. And sweating. And working, and sweating.
Five minutes into the class and I already felt a deep burn. Ten minutes in, my legs were shaking. Fifteen minutes in, I was beetroot-faced and dripping with sweat. Twenty-five minutes in, I was checking the clock, hoping the class was nearly over. But at 45 minutes in to the 50-minute class, I wanted to know where I could sign-up for the next one. I hit a wall, broke through it, and got high on the endorphins in the process.
When it comes to getting Physicore, there is no point at which you'll wonder 'Is this doing anything?'
I should mention that the following day, I fell over. In the street. At peak hour. And ripped my pants. My muscles were still so sore that when my heels hit a uneven part of the pavement, I couldn't recover in the way that I normally would, shredding my pants and my diginity in one swift move.
I did the only thing one can do in that situation, buy new shoes. Here's my new shoes, and busted knee. (Apologies if you were eating just now.)
What you need to know.
You will need: coordination (at least a little), and tight fitting clothes you'd normally wear to yoga or pilates.
You will not need: flexibility (though it helps), $37 . Physicore newbies can currently sign up for two classes for $25 here.
Visit the Physicore website to find out where you find new muscles you never knew you had.