The best thing to do, according to everyone Who Knows, is to get back swimming. This is the best after sales care for the hip, or knee or any sort of operation it would seem. There are two things I hate about this kind of exercise: one, the need to dry off and get into clothes in a very small cubicle without getting feet wet, clothes wet, or dropping the towel - and the mere fact of getting oneself dry properly is impossible. The second thing I hate is the chlorine. I hate the smell of it, and I hate the prickly feeling it gives the skin after bathing in it.
However, I love the freedom of water, the fact that exercise is not weight-bearing, and the wonderful thought that if I fell over, I would be entirely supported. So I paid my ticket and took my chances with the aqua fitness classes. I'd already done these before the hip replacement, so knew what I was in for. I can cope with these, particularly if I can take a sneaky rest during the class. So back I went. First up was a class by Tarnz. Tarnz is super fit. As is Tania - not to be confused with Tarnz. Two different women, but both look very similar. Fit as. Slight, brown-skinned, black hair, and with a wonderful ability to cheer you on.
We're mostly baby-boomers, especially the class for Aqua Senior which has different music - all the sort of 70's and 80's stuff that we can apparently rock on to. And we do, many of us singing along before gulping a mouthful of the chlorinated aqua stuff or going under. Many of us know others in the class and many of us wish we didn't have to meet others under these often undignified circumstances. But there we are; in the same boat, as it were.
"Awesome!" is the word most frequently used by these lithe, super-fit instructors. Not many people tell me I'm awesome, or give me so much praise for doing so little, or indeed clap me after I've finished. "Awesome!" I hear, as I push my weary way through the water, legs hoisted up one after another, or rocketed from side to side. I lift my chin a little - hey! I'm awesome! I'm awesome as I sit astride the 'noodle' and vainly try to scoot down the length of the pool with knees in sitting position. I'm awesome as the noodle is swung two and fro under the water making my arms weak with endeavour. I'm awesome as I scoot backwards down the length of the pool, tripping over myself in my haste not to be last. It's quite nice to be told I'm awesome after all these years - quite a compliment, really.
I'll take it!
However, I love the freedom of water, the fact that exercise is not weight-bearing, and the wonderful thought that if I fell over, I would be entirely supported. So I paid my ticket and took my chances with the aqua fitness classes. I'd already done these before the hip replacement, so knew what I was in for. I can cope with these, particularly if I can take a sneaky rest during the class. So back I went. First up was a class by Tarnz. Tarnz is super fit. As is Tania - not to be confused with Tarnz. Two different women, but both look very similar. Fit as. Slight, brown-skinned, black hair, and with a wonderful ability to cheer you on.
We're mostly baby-boomers, especially the class for Aqua Senior which has different music - all the sort of 70's and 80's stuff that we can apparently rock on to. And we do, many of us singing along before gulping a mouthful of the chlorinated aqua stuff or going under. Many of us know others in the class and many of us wish we didn't have to meet others under these often undignified circumstances. But there we are; in the same boat, as it were.
"Awesome!" is the word most frequently used by these lithe, super-fit instructors. Not many people tell me I'm awesome, or give me so much praise for doing so little, or indeed clap me after I've finished. "Awesome!" I hear, as I push my weary way through the water, legs hoisted up one after another, or rocketed from side to side. I lift my chin a little - hey! I'm awesome! I'm awesome as I sit astride the 'noodle' and vainly try to scoot down the length of the pool with knees in sitting position. I'm awesome as the noodle is swung two and fro under the water making my arms weak with endeavour. I'm awesome as I scoot backwards down the length of the pool, tripping over myself in my haste not to be last. It's quite nice to be told I'm awesome after all these years - quite a compliment, really.
I'll take it!
