One of my favourite fit feminist humans recently suggested I try the two-week trial membership for Lost Cycle, a Toronto-based woman-owned fitness company that expanded to my city in 2019. She thought I would like it because, as she said, it was “cycling in the dark to really loud rap music.”
I am already a fan of doing stuff to music in the dark, as I did with (Remote) Dark Dancing during the COVID pandemic. Also, the timing seemed good to counter any winter break inactivity. So, in spite of reduced holiday hours and some poor weather outside, I made it to four classes, two at each location.
My black car parked in the empty Lost Cycle lot on a cold, wet, sleet-filled winter break morning.
The Lost Cycle studio ambiance is what might be described as “boutique warehouse,” with minimal windows and the company logo spraypainted on walls but also gratis cold towels and individual shower rooms with complimentary products. The fitness areas have quality equipment: ON the bike classes include clip-in shoes and earplugs, while OFF the bike rooms have infrared heat panels and Lululemon yoga mats. The class leaders were all chatty and friendly on their mics, many showing plenty of body tattoos.
The spin class leader‘s station on an elevated platform, close to a podium to adjust sound and light during class.
And, as mentioned, the classes are held in the dark, with just enough artificial and real candle light to see the mirrors and other people.
Dark spin class, with bikes lined up and towels on them. The photo doesn’t capture the ambiance created by the range of electronic dance music and occasional throwbacks.
In class I tried my best to keep up, but made modifications when my knees ached a little. The low lighting and loud music worked to lessen my self-consciousness (being new and only an occasional group fitnesser), though I needed to place myself close to the front to be able to follow instructions. On the mic, leaders were genuinely supportive, reflecting the vibe of the post-it notes on the studio walls: you are enough, you showed up today, you can do this. Other people I have discussed spin with describe being called out during classes. Here, there was none of that.
Dark group fitness with mats, towels, bands, and handweights placed closely together in a heated room. OFF the bike was a blend of HIIT calisthenics, strength training, and yoga stretches.
Near the end of both ON and OFF the bike classes, there is time to really get “lost”: the lights go off and the music goes up and you just have about 3 to 4 minutes to yourself.
And, during the “lost” times while cycling away or lying on my mat, I found myself in tears or near tears. Now, I am in a particularly vulnerable place right now, due to my recent job loss. While I didn’t check if other participants had felt the same thing, in every class I experienced in the dark a kind of emotional release I didn’t know I needed.
Lost Cycle has tapped into different elements of cycle studio / gym ambiance that makes it feel like fun, luxury, and intensity, all the ingredients for something slightly cultish. Though I was on my way to becoming an initiate, I’m not in a $$ position to keep the membership. At least I am taking the lesson home from Lost Cycle: turn off the lights, pump my mid-life music, and make time for both strength and vulnerability.
Aquafit is a great activity but I am having complicated feelings about it.
I first enjoyed aquafit way back in university, in the early 1980s. It was a deep water class, almost like HIIT but in the water.
Now that I’m lifeguarding, I notice a very different dynamic. These days, it’s almost all older white women, many of them with mobility issues, judging by the poolside collection of canes and walkers.
At best, there about 30% men in a class, but that’s rare. Usually the ratio is closer to one in 10 (or none at all) in the classes I guard. People of Colour equally rare, as are people under the age of what I’m guessing is about 50.
Why is that?
Generally, aquafit is pitched to older women, with popular American music from the 60s and 70s. While a few older men may join in, it often seems to be because they are addressing a specific medical issue or recovering from surgery. But no younger, fitter men join, perhaps because it is perceived as a “women’s” activity. People of colour, who are often newer immigrants in my area, may not feel a connection to the music that the majority loves to sing along to.
The timing of classes could also be an issue. They are offered during the day, when retired people are more likely to be available. Earlier and later in the day there is competition for pool time with swim clubs and lane swims, possibly because because more of those swimmers have to get to work or school.
We could change the perception of aquafit as being an easy, social activity for elderly women. Some places do offer intensive aquafit, but it doesn’t seem to be an option where I live.
Or maybe I could just learn to accept that these women enjoy having their own space, where they can sing, or chat, or work as hard as they want. This Guardian article has a lovely description of the joys of aquafit.
A photo of older women at an aquafit class, from the Guardian article mentioned above. Photograph: Barbara Alper/Getty Images
Maybe not every sport needs to be all things to all people.
Or maybe we need to have more male or visible minority, instructors and more classes at times that work well for the people who currently aren’t participating.
Or maybe we just need more sports facilities. I can dream…
A couple of months ago I moved back to Toronto after 33 years in London, Ontario. I last lived in Toronto when I was a Master’s student at U of T from 1987-88. Both I and the city have changed a lot since then. So I had nothing familiar as far as working goes to tap into when I got here in May. Not only that, but my routines had fallen to the side completely over the winter as I prepped for my move. And finally, it’s been a stinking hot summer, not a great time to get back into running.
So when a friend suggested that we try out the Y, which turns out to be just a 12-minute walk from where I live, it sounded like the perfect solution for so many reasons. Most notably, if we were going to join a gym, we wanted it to be a relaxed place with a truly inclusive vibe. The Y definitely ticks that box. It’s also convenient, has great equipment, lots of programming, and a 25m pool. We joined, and here’s what I’ve tried so far:
Aquafit — you can do this 45-minute class in shallow or deep water. So far, I’ve only signed up for shallow. I had a bit of a misconception about aquafit, I have to admit. I thought it would be easy and not feel like much of a workout. It turns out to be a good workout, very much more exerting than I anticipated, especially the part where you use the water dumbbells to create resistance. I’ve been using the blue ones, which are apparently easier than the yellow. I can’t imagine feeling ready for the yellow. But then that is the wonderful thing about resistance training — it makes you stronger.
MuscleFit — another 45-minute class, this time in the gym. Each participant gathers a mixture of light-medium and medium-heavy barbells and dumbbells for a guided full body workout. Again it’s a tough one, where the muscle fatigue is from high reps rather than heavy weights (even the “heavy” weights aren’t especially heavy). The first time I did it I overdid the barbell weights and had to lighten my load. I did better the second time, and have also learned over time that it’s okay to set the weights down and do body weight or take a break if needed. Will I keep doing that? Maybe on occasion but I also want to reintroduce resistance training on my own. The Y has lots of equipment in multiple different rooms and studios. So even when it’s busy it looks as if no one has to fight too hard to get the weights they need, and I remember enjoying the community atmosphere in the weight room.
Yoga — I haven’t found a hot yoga studio yet and will likely wait until the fall to do that, given the heat this summer. But I wanted to get back into a yoga class and it turns out that the Y has those too. I’ve gone a couple of times and had a good experience. Not the most challenging yoga or the most careful instruction, but it’s in a pleasant studio with loads of space, and as with anything, if you know what you’re doing you can make yoga as challenging or as unchallenging as you wish.
Lane swimming — I couldn’t be around a 25m pool for too many days without feeling tempted to get back to lane swimming. I did that this week for the first time, gathering up my gear from back in the day with the intention of doing 40 x 25m in 30 minutes. That would be a pretty slow pace and I didn’t quite make it. I started off with 10 x 25m of breast stroke, which took me to 10 minutes, then cut back from 20 to 15 x 25m freestyle, following by another 10 of breast stroke. It was a lot tougher than I expected it to be but now I have a benchmark and a goal. The goal is to get back to 40 x 25m by the end of the summer. I have no idea if that is realistic. I want to add drills and workouts to my lane swimming at some point. I remember enjoying that kind of training. Being in the pool again feels incredibly good.
As far as running goes, I’ve been out a few times and have reconnected with the “getting started” series of the Nike Run Club again. It’s been a sticky hot summer and I miss my running crew and my familiar routes. But if I can get back to 3x a week, I’ll be pleased with that.
Living in a large urban centre again means a lot more walking in my day to day than before. The traffic here is horrendous at unpredictable times, and if at all possible you want to avoid paying for parking. So much is easily accessible to me on foot, and though people complain about the transit, I adore the subway and live conveniently close to a few stations.
So that’s my report on establishing some fitness routines in a new city. As with anything, it can feel daunting at first. And the loss of community (in my case my running group and the hot yoga studio I frequented) is no small thing. But now that I’ve reconnected with the Y, it’s been an enjoyable experience that’s put me in touch with new and familiar activities in a relaxed atmosphere that offers a sense of community and belonging that I really like.
Image description: Overhead shot of gym stuff lined up on a towel: shower shoes, swim cap, goggles, swim suit, and running shoes. Photo by Tracy I
💙 Every class the teacher reminds us, because there might be new people in the class, that the silk hammocks can hold up to 1000 lbs. As a person with a larger body, I find that very reassuring. 😊
💚 The class is very easy on your knees and other joints because the hammock bears your body weight. “While it may seem gimmicky to some, AntiGravity Yoga provides a therapeutic and effective way for the hips and spine to stretch that isn’t achievable in a regular yoga practice. The premise of the AntiGravity technique is that the spine is “compressed” when doing everyday activities, and the hammocks cause zero compression in the joints, allowing the spine to move freely. ” (from We tried it: AntiGravity restorative yoga, Canadian Living)
💜 It’s both serious and playful. This particular instructor takes safety seriously and stresses that everyone’s finds their own pace. “In this class we strive for progress, not perfection.” But she also shows the class how to get into the hammock belly down, push off, and breaststroke to the front of the room. Fun.
❤️The hammocks are very pretty. There’s something aesthetically pleasing when the light streams in through the studio windows and catches the parachute-like silk fabric of the hammocks.
💛 Yes, you’re floating in a hammock, suspended from the ceiling, but you are only a couple of inches off the ground. It feels both like you’re flying and that you can reach a foot down and touch the floor.
🧡 My favourite position is Cocoon pose, or cocoon savasana at the end of class. Because of course it is. Zzzzz.
Also, for some reason, likely not unrelated an older blog post about retro workouts is appearing in our stats. Here’s Cate and Susan’s take on their retro workout. It’s a thoughtful conversation about the ways in which our fitness pasts shape who we are when we show up to the gym today.
Almost exactly 4 years ago– March 22, 2020– I wrote about developing my Zoom identity. Back then, most of us were noobs at Zooming, but we quickly adapted to Zoom-versions of everything from therapy to French class to bedtime stories to Zoom-Zumba.
Back then, I touted the benefits that Zoom yoga classes provide– namely, they made me more comfortable doing (easier) modifications of poses, or holding them for shorter periods, taking a pause, and then resuming. It felt liberating to be un-visible (different from invisible, obvs), free to move or stretch or be still in ways that suited me in the moment.
Yeah. That was sooo four years ago.
Mind you, I am massively appreciative of videoconferencing technology. It made possible the continuation (after a fashion) of so much of my pre-pandemic life: teaching Zoom classes, going to Zoom parties, weddings, funerals, faculty meetings, book club sessions, even attending Zoom church. And of course, those Zoom yoga and exercise classes.
Now, in March of 2024, we all have a lot of experience with the pros and cons of non-in-person meetings, conferences, medical appointments, physical activity classes, etc.
For Zoom physical activity classes, there are definitely some pros:
When I’m not feeling peppy or having a tightly scheduled day, Zooming is better than nothing.
There are recordings of lots of Zoom classes (my yoga studio makes them available for a week after the class), which can be handy.
I get to be un-visible (I’m really liking this word; I hope you don’t mind) during classes when I’m not feeling up to pushing myself hard.
A Zoom yoga class, for example, offers me more structure than my doing some yoga by myself; it also makes me practice for longer than I would if left to guide myself on the mat.
But there are most definitely cons.
Zoom yoga (for me, at least) is soooo inferior an experience compared to in-person yoga. Being in the same room with a teacher and other people is motivating, companionable, probably safer (e.g. we would be more protected from harmful variations on poses), more conducive to learning and developing a deeper practice, and just more fun.
And I promise you that singing bowls sound way cooler and more cosmic in person than on video. To wit:
This sounds nice, but it is way better in person. Trust me.
Another sort-of con (at least for me) is the wholesale availability of Zoom versions of yoga, meditation and exercise classes. The problem for me is that inertia plus habit plus any suboptimal daily circumstances makes me think, “oh, I’ll just do this over Zoom instead.” At which point either I don’t Zoom at all, or I Zoom and participate in a less committed way.
Of course your mileage may vary. But it’s so tempting to try to multitask during Zoom-anything because we CAN. About six months into the pandemic, I was on Zoom church, when I saw one person doing core exercises on their living room floor during the sermon. They had forgotten to turn their camera off– oops! And yes, we all know that more embarrassing things have been spotted during Zoom sessions, but that’s not my point here. It’s rather that so many things pull us in the directions of doing much more (e.g. multitasking) or doing much less (not participating in the class exercises or poses, etc.) when we are on Zoom.
It’s not Zoom’s fault, and it’s not totally our fault, either. But, I’m now facing a choice: muster a bit more oomph for in-person activity, or develop a more active Zoom identity (or some of both).
Readers, where are you on Zoom physical activity classes? Are you over them, or are they now a big part of your life? I’d love to hear from you.
Yesterday I was busy with a bunch of errands and chores and tasks and to-do items, i.e. it was a normal Saturday. However, I found myself with not enough time to do a walk or yoga class. So, I thought, hey, let’s do one of those New York Times X-minute workout (where X is a number <10). They have 6, 7 and 9-minute workouts, along with modifications. Great– this is just the ticket.
I did the standing 7-minute workout, which was sufficient for my busy-day needs. You can try it here.
Out of curiosity, I looked at the NYT comments for the article. What I found was plenty of opinions:
use of the term “exercise snack” made them think about potato chips, which they didn’t want to do
the workout felt too much like a warmup
the workout needed more of a warmup
they suggested sprinting up three flights of stairs would be a better short workout
they expressed horror at the idea of sprinting up three flights of stairs
they wanted a printable version of the workout
apropos of nothing, they expressed their disapproval of leaf blowers (which I share, but..)
All this reminded me of a post I did a few years back about the NYT 6-minute workout. Now THOSE readers had some serious opinions. If you’d like to look at it, here’s the post below.
And however many minutes you choose to devote to working out, I wish you well. And don’t think about potato chips (unless you want to).
So I already have to recant a promise I made in my first post in this mini-series: I cancelled my MommaStrong subscription this week. I just haven’t been doing the workouts because I enjoy other things (running, yoga) so much more and it’s not worth paying good money for something I don’t use. But anyway, on to part two of this little series on what I’ve been doing fitness-wise since giving birth.
In Germany, statutory public health insurance entitles you to a postpartum gymnastics course and will pay for up to 8 sessions (because of my work I have private insurance, but it’s also covered). I think this is kind of amazing and possibly quite unique, at least from what I hear from some of my international friends, who have been astounded by this.
Normally, these postpartum gymnastic classes are fairly mellow, aimed mostly at restoring some pelvic floor and core health after pregnancy and childbirth have left your body in… probably a very different shape than it used to be. They sit somewhere between physical therapy and a light workout and are intended to prepare you for going back to “normal” exercise and life in general without incontinence and diastasis recti problems.
If you’re interested in what these classes look like, here’s a video (in German, sorry) from a couple of midwives who have recorded theirs and put them on YouTube to cater to women who can’t attend an in-person class due to the pandemic:
Video from hallohebamme.de – postpartum PT/gymnastics class. They do their course in a “mummy and me” format, Bettina’s was a class without baby.
I think these are the right choice for most people, but if you were quite active before and during pregnancy and had a relatively uncomplicated birth, you’re probably hankering for something a bit more challenging. At least I was. Luckily, my midwife had caught onto that. She found out about a postpartum gymnastics course specifically for “sporty women” (sic) and I immediately signed up.
“Thanks” to Covid, it was an online course. Run by two midwives, we gathered on Zoom once a week for eight weeks in November and December to restart an exercise routine. The sessions consisted of warm-up, some cardio, a lot of post-pregnancy safe strengthening exercises for arms, legs, and core, and finally stretching and cool-down. Over the course of eight weeks, the intensity increased gradually.
Reader, I LOVED it. The first session, I almost cried when I actually broke a sweat. I know breaking a sweat is by no means a requirement for something to “count” as exercise, but I was really craving a hard workout by that time. The women who ran the class were lovely and funny and did their best to make sure we did the exercises correctly even though they couldn’t physically correct us. The only thing missing was the community spirit that would probably have developed had the class been in-person. Although I’m definitely ready to take up other forms of exercise again, I’m still kind of sad the course is over. I was a lovely way of getting myself in gear once a week.
Are postpartum gymnastics courses a thing where you are?
image description: Selfie of two women, Violetta in front, long dark hair with highlights, smiling, white t-shirt; Tracy in back, smiling, with sunglasses, medium length salt and pepper hair, red and black top, black coat, camera strap visible; field and trees in background. (we had just finished a two-hour physically distanced hike with others). Photo credit: Violetta.
The other day I didn’t have the energy for a run, so I checked in with my out-of-town running buddy, Violetta, and said I might “just” do some yoga or “just” go for a walk. She said she’d been feeling the same that day, but that she wanted to stop putting “just” in front of these choices, as if they are somehow lesser, inferior, or slack options that we need to apologize for. I agree. Indeed, I even thought it as I was texting the “just yoga” message.
I know I’m not the only person who imposes conditions on the types of activity that it’s “okay” to count. I’ve blogged about this before (see “What counts?” and “More than six years later and Tracy has the same questions about what counts”). And it has come up again and again during the “220 in 2020” group. That’s a group where we keep track of our workouts with the goal of doing 220 by December 31, 2020. Next year the goal will be 2021. Today I logged my 408th workout of the year. I have fewer questions about what counts.
2020 is the year where movement has become a part of my daily routine. Almost every day I do something intentional, whether yoga, a zoom weight training session, a run, a walk, a hike. And sometimes the very goal of daily movement is what gets me moving. It used to be the 220 in 2020 but I’ve long since surpassed 220, so the goal had to shift away from a total number and more to “something every day,” away from outcome and towards process or maybe a habit checklist type of approach. Workout? Check!
Just because some of what we do is different in level of exertion or the amount of time we spend on it from some of the other things we doesn’t mean it’s less than. During the pandemic more than ever it’s become important to me (and I know I’m not alone in this) to be intentional about movement because some days, if I wasn’t, I probably wouldn’t even reach 1000 steps. I go from my bedroom to the kitchen to my home office to the kitchen again all day. At night I sit down to read or watch something. And then I go to bed. I go out much less than I used to. Because it requires choice, I’m at the point where intentional physical activity that I wouldn’t otherwise choose to do “counts.”
Even as I say that I am aware that there is a level of self-shaming that so many of us engage in when we compare. And it’s not always when I compare myself to others who I regard as more fit, stronger, faster, more active, or more committed to what they do. It’s also when I compare what I did yesterday in my one hour sweaty, kick-butt Superhero workout to what I did today (a 3K run and some gentle yoga). They’re all workouts. They all count. I’m not cheating when I track them.
It’s interesting to me to look back on my angst over the years about what counts because I don’t feel that anymore. I have a solid sense of confidence that I get to decide on my own criteria, and that it doesn’t make sense for me to think that every workout has to be equal to every other workout in its demandingness for it to legitimately count.
And it’s also okay, even necessary, at least sometimes to choose rest. That’s a healthy choice, too (even if it doesn’t count as a workout).
Do you consciously or unconsciously rank certain activities as superior or inferior to others? Do you discount some of your workouts because they’re not “demanding enough?”
[Shout-out to Violetta: Happy birthday, my friend!]
Image description: Screenshot of an iphone screen with alarm set for 5:20 AM, black background, green “on” activated beside digital reading of 5:20 AM
Motivation. That’s probably the number one theme for anyone who struggles with working out. Yes, we deal with injury, weather, and interrupted routines. But how to get and stay motivated? That can be our undoing. Today I want to zero in on one really specific thing that people say they are not motivated to do: get up for an early morning workout.
Since shortly into the pandemic, I have been doing Superhero Workouts with fieldpoppy Cate’s amazing trainer, Alex of ABH Movement (I guess Alex now counts as my trainer too, since I’ve been working with her since May). These are one-hour live Zoom workouts, where Alex leads and a fluctuating number of us (usually somewhere between 8-15 these days) follow. Because we’re live, Alex can give us pointers on our form and we can ask questions or request alternatives. And I definitely work harder than I would if I had to make up my own workout and do it alone. My time of choice: 6 a.m. (MWF) or 6:30 a.m. (Tuesdays). On Saturdays it’s at 9:30 a.m., so that’s not a motivational challenge as far as the time is concerned. Thursdays it’s from 7:30-8:30 a.m., which is too late for me most days because of work. On MWF there is also a 9 a.m. class, and that draws its own regular crowd but I have never been. I like the early workout.
A few people told me flat-out that I would never see them at a 6 a.m. workout because that’s just way too early. I confess that as much as I love the early workouts, sometimes I need to give myself a pep talk to make it out of bed. The absolute best part of working out this early in the day is that by 7 a.m. (or 7:30 on Tuesdays) my workout is done! So how do I get out of bed for an early workout several times a week? Here are some of my strategies:
I get to bed early enough the night before…This sort of goes without saying but it’s key. If I don’t get at least (or close to) seven hours of sleep, I’m not likely to make it out of bed for the early workout. I set my alarm for 5:20 on the 6 a.m. workout days. That means I need to do my best to be sleeping by 10:30 at the latest.
I don’t get up right before the workout; give myself some time…Lots of people who have a 6 a.m. workout would probably get up at 5:50, especially if they don’t need to go anywhere. Even when I used to do swim training at 6 a.m. at the Y, I used to get up at 5:40 and just pull on my suit and my sweats and go. But now I have a different routine that involves hanging out with the kittens, feeding them, and perhaps meditating before the workout if there is 20 minutes of time. That means that by the time the workout starts I’m awake, not groggy. My usual wake-up time for the 6 a.m. workout: 5:20 a.m.
Have a pep talk ready for those days I don’t want to get out of bed…I have those mornings when I don’t want to get out of bed. But I also know myself. I’m the type of person who, once I am out of bed I’m ready to go. But if it’s raining, or snowing, or cold, or dark, or some combination of those things, then bed feels so cozy. The number one thing I tell myself is: “think of how good I’ll feel by 7 a.m. when I’m done my workout!” But I also tell myself: “I’m going to feel glad I got up within a few minutes of getting out of bed–really I will.” My pep talks aren’t of the style in Welcome to the Grind (have you seen that? -It’s a bit too earnest for me but I include a link here since some people find it really motivating and inspiring).
I work out with a group…That’s another thing that gets me going: “It’ll be fun to connect with the team.” Alex has great energy and really gets us going in the early morning, and I am starting to know some of the others (albeit in a very limited way because we’re Zooming) as well. Since I first tried group training I have come to appreciate its motivational magic. I feel the loss when I miss out on a group workout. I miss them. They notice I’m gone. Working out alone is rarely a replacement for a group workout, even though solo workouts always have their place in my training. It’s not just about accountability. It’s also about the energy of others. I love what Alex has created with the Virtual Superhero team and I always feel better not just for having done it, but while I am doing it.
I work out with friends... This is similar to working out with a group, but it’s more direct. On Tuesdays, a friend of mine whom I introduced to Alex’s workouts has started coming to the 6:30 class as well. When we touch base the night before to say we’re both doing the 6:30 class the next day, that’s basically enough to guarantee I’ll get out of bed for that workout. It’s not that much different from planning to meet a friend at the gym at 6:30 — you would not want to stand someone up that early in the morning (if ever!).
I take afternoon naps…I know naps are killers for some people, making it difficult for them to sleep at bedtime. But I learned the virtues of a power nap from my Dad, who used to come home from the office at lunch, eat, and then have a 10-minute nap before heading back to work. I usually go for a bit longer, but rarely longer than 30 minutes (I set a timer). It’s a great refresher that I can fit in now that I’m working at home. The kittens love it too (they always come and nap with me). And if I’m feeling tired from having been awake since 5:20, it’s gives me enough of a boost to feel good until bedtime without interfering with my ability to sleep at night.
I am flexible; sometimes I bail…I don’t always follow through with the early workouts. About once or twice a month, on those mornings when I got to bed too late or if I feel ache-y or if my body or mind needs more rest, I turn off my alarm, cancel my workout, and go back to sleep.
I should add that I’ve always been a morning person. I appreciate the quiet of an early morning. If we had to rate times of day from 1-10, where 10 is the time of day we love the most, I would rate 6-9 a.m. as a 10.
Those are my gentle strategies for getting out of bed for early morning workouts. How do you feel about early workouts? If you’re into them, how do you motivate yourself to get out of bed for them?
