It hurts, it hurts you know

My body's still recovering from a grueling Saturday--got up at 5:30 am (the earliest I'd been up in a really long time) to attend a gymnastics session at 6:00. Yes, gymnastics! It was my first time ever, and I went with CADsters who were already doing standing back tucks. Crap. I also met someone who's currently a college senior, and when I told him when I graduated, he started saying something which seemed to be leading up to, "That was a long...time ago..." Haha. Man, I felt old.

So the most I could do before were cartwheels and, on a good day when I'm feeling a bit brave, roundoffs. But on Saturday, I was made to do handstands--during warmup!--front handsprings, and back handsprings! For front handsprings, the beginners (myself included) had to run up an inclined springboard and just wing it. Our pseudo-coach, former Philippine team gymnast Anj, told me that I had to let go of my fear. My tendency was to tuck my shoulders in and bend my arms, which made me land on my back. (Btw, the mattress is one of the greatest inventions of all time.)

I liked that Anj talked us through and would tell us what we were doing wrong. "I don't think I would make a good coach because I talk too much," she said. "But it's a science!"

Anyhoo, I think I was overthinking it, concerned too much about the gallop and all, that I ended up doing the cha-cha everytime it was my turn (you know, running forward, hesitating, then walking back for another attempt). Plus, I kept thinking about all the possible ways I could get hurt. You have to be fearless when you attempt these things.

When Coach John--this big hulk of a man--got there, he made us do back handsprings, with him spotting (or in the beginners' case, carrying) us, of course! I felt like I sucked the most, especially at the start, but I started to get the hang of it, and I totally trusted this dude, who seemed like he could carry me with his pinky. Chinie said that my form was good, so I guess I'm not a hopeless case!

It was loads of fun--I thought it would be a low-intensity workout, but I was already sweating bullets halfway through warmups. And I can't wait to go back! (I say that now that I'm not standing in front of that pesky springboard.)

Three hours later, we headed to dance practice, where we tapped into our inner divas to do Kelis's Bossy--I swear, only choreorapher Joyce looks good doing it. I was mesmerized when she would freestyle, wishing I could move like that. I was still lost trying to figure out Nico's All Star-esque choreo, but had fun with Glen's somewhat restrained moves. ("Patong lang," as he called it. It's something I have to work on, because I'm normally about tremendous energy and big movements.) Throughout the weekend, I kept repeating the moves to his, "I got this icebox where my heart used to be..." and our driver, Elps, must've found it strange when I was moving my arms in the car. Then again, he must be used to it after all these years.

Took a delicious nap when I got home, then swung by CubaoX before heading to ultimate! By this time, my back, my neck, my legs...pretty much everything had started to hurt. But it was a good kind of hurt. I missed that. Even with all the cardio I've been doing at the gym, I rarely get the kind of pain I used to get back in college. But I felt it last Saturday, and am still feeling it today. And, I must say, it makes me feel alive!