Step Up, Step Down, and Move it All Around!

This week’s pay-as-you-go mission: Monday night step class at the gym.  Since my friends had neglected their promises to accompany me at the last three pay-as-you-go classes I had attended, I didn’t even bother to ask them this time.  Besides, as far as I am concerned, I am turning into quite the pay-as-you-go fitness princess and no longer need a familiar face by my side while trying out something new.  And to be honest, the idea of a step class wasn’t that intimidating- over the course of my life I have participated in similar classes or videos (circa Jane Fonda in the 1980s, anyone?) and felt confident that tonight’s class wouldn’t be as traumatic as some of my other experiences.

The step class took place in the gym’s Aerobics room, meaning that once again, people passing by the big glass windows had full visibility of everyone participating in the class.  Lucky for me, I arrived early enough to secure myself a spot against the left side of the room by the wall where I could remain unseen by most passer-bys.

As expected, the equipment required for this class was the elevated platform routinely used in a step class, and risers were available as an option depending on how challenging you want the class to be.  Seeing as I will be donning a bikini in two shorts week on my vacation in Mexico, I decided to take the risers for the extra challenge.  As soon as everyone had their platforms and risers set up, the instructor, an incredibly enthusiastic, middle-aged blond woman, began to lead a warm-up.  The warm-up, accompanied by a song straight out of the 90s, consisted of some basic aerobic steps and a variety of stretches.

From prior experiences, I have learned that aerobic classes can be one of two things; they can either be more like a dance class with short dance-like sequences or a class more geared towards high energy punches and kicks.  This step class was definitely closer to the former.  As I mentioned in my Zumba post, I’m not that great of a dancer and I found myself spending more time trying to nail down a lot of the steps in this class than actually getting a workout.  My frustrations were high but my heart rate- not so much.  Notwithstanding my experience, everyone else in the class (all girls) seemed to be really enjoying themselves.  The mood was light, the music upbeat and the instructor could not have been more outgoing or friendly.  If I’m ever feeling sluggish on a Monday and not in the mood for a routine run on the treadmill, I will definitely consider returning to the gym’s Monday evening step class.   

Spinning Class: No Ride in the Park!

In keeping up with my goal to try out all the “pay-as-you-go” classes McGill Athletics has to offer this semester, I decided to test out the waters of a spinning class yesterday evening.  Spinning, similar to Zumba last week, was a workout I had yet to experience.  Biking has never been my favorite pastime or means of exercising, but I had heard great reviews about spinning as a workout from friends, so I figured I might as well try it out at least once.

Not surprisingly, the friends who had promised to tag along bailed on me at the last minute and I found myself once again trying something for the first time all on my own.  Luckily I was feeling very optimistic and thankful that it wasn’t a dance class; the likelihood of me embarrassing myself was much smaller than it was last week.

When I got to the spinning room the instructor and around a dozen other people were already setting up their bikes.  Unlike the Zumba class, there were already some males who had shown up, looking ever-so intense and experienced as they adjusted their seats and handle bars on their bikes.  It was at this moment when my optimism for the class was quickly replaced with skepticism- I had absolutely no clue how to adjust my seat or handle bars on the bike, let alone to what position.  It must have been obvious that I was completely clueless and new to the class, because the instructor, a very fit, young and blonde girl, came over to assist me.  She asked me if this was my first time at a spin class and I did not hesitate to admit that yes, it was my first time spinning.  She enlightened me on how and where to adjust the seat and handlebars of the bike, and within minutes I was on the bike, with my feet tightly fastened into the paddle straps, ready to spin.

The total workout was just over forty-five minutes long, however it felt as if it went on for hours.  After the first song I was already drenched in sweat and completely out of breath.  The way spinning works is that there are four positions you take- sitting, squatting, sprinting or standing.  I found each position challenging and the more tension you added (by turning the tension wheel one spin around or backwards at the discretion of the instructor) the harder pedaling became.  Sprinting with added tension was definitely not my strong suit, however, I managed to somewhat successfully tackle the standing position.  The squatting position is one to which I hope to never return.  The pain that position brought me is indescribable.  Had my mother been there I probably would have removed myself from the bike and run into her arms for comfort- it was that bad.

When the class was finally over and I stepped off the bike, my legs were shaking to the point that I didn’t know whether or not I could walk.  I consider myself a rather fit individual but this class literally took everything out of me.  Walking up to the stairs to the girls change room was unbearable and I could not stop sweating.  When I got home to my apartment the only thing I could do was lie on my bed.  Notwithstanding the fact that when I woke up this morning my legs hurt even more than they did after the class ended, I’m also positive that the spin class will become routine on my Friday evenings.  Friends have told me that spinning becomes a little bit easier each time you go and I am hoping that this is true. 

Zumba, Zumba!

This morning I put the dancing skills I have never had to test at the fitness class Zumba, offered as a one of the drop-in fitness classes at McGill.  A huge part of me did not want to go to this class.  Not only am I a terrible dancer but I was forced to go to the class on my own since all my friends were snuggled up in their beds after a night out in the cold at Igloo-Fest.  Despite the fact that I consider myself quite independent and adventurous, when it comes time to trying something new and out of my comfort zone I would much rather do so with a familiar face by my side.  Nevertheless, I sucked it up, made my way up the hill to the gym, and put on my running shoes, anxiously anticipating and dreading the unexpected.

When I got down to the Aerobics room I was relieved to see no one I knew.  I was a bit early so lucky for me, my awkwardness immediately kicked into high gear as I stood in the corner trying to come across as the girl who wasn’t there for her first time or alone. As more girls showed up the instructor signaled for everyone to choose a spot on the floor.  I strategically went as close to the far wall as possible, nowhere near the front or back- drawing attention to myself was the last thing I wanted to do.  The music started with an upbeat exotic-sounding song, and the instructor led our warm-up, which consisted of fairly simple steps.  I tried not to get too excited over the simplicity of the steps because I knew as soon as the song was over the instructor would be switching into a high-intensity Zumba mode.

If I was not determined to master the steps of Zumba I was determined to give off the impression to others that I at least knew what I was doing.  As we started into the first song after the warm-up, I soon realized how ambitious I was being.  It’s not that the steps were extremely challenging, but as soon as I got the hang of some of steps after a few tries, our instructor would start into a new routine. I was relieved however, when I looked around and saw that almost every other girl there was equally if not more confused and uncoordinated as I was.

As far as steps go, the class included a lot of booty shaking, twirling of the hips, fist pumping and clapping.  As soon as I started to get the hang of the steps a bit more I found that I was actually enjoying myself!  And the more I was able to nail down the moves, the more of a workout the class became.  Within twenty minutes I had worked up quite a sweat and needed some water.  The instructor was extremely encouraging and made my first Zumba experience not only less intimidating than I had originally expected, but also a lot of fun! Not one girl in the room didn’t have a smile on her face and giggling could be heard from all directions as girls tripped over their own feet or bumped into one another.  What started off as a very nerve-racking experience ended up being a very enjoyable time.  I am determined to return to Zumba next week to master some of the steps, and this time I am definitely bringing along some friends.

Shoot for the Cure!

Last Thursday night, members of McGill’s women’s basketball team laced up their kicks and swapped their traditional red and white jerseys for flashy cotton candy pink and white uniforms to take on the Concordia Stingers at the annual “Shoot For the Cure” double header game in McGill’s gym. 

Despite the fact that basketball happens to be one of my favorite sports, not only to play but also to watch, this was my first time attending a basketball game at McGill.  I showed up to the game excited to support a fundraiser for breast cancer and to reconnect with a sport that once my occupied a significant amount of my time back in high school.  And to be perfectly honest, I was definitely looking forward to enjoying my first hot dog of the year from the concession stand at the gym.  So with my hot dog in hand, and my newly purchased pink ribbon pinned to my sweater, my friends and I found a seat in the middle of the stands surrounded by some familiar and unfamiliar faces.  The Martlets weren’t the only ones dressed for the cause.  Many female fans were wearing pink shirts or sweaters and men jazzed up their customary dull suits with pink ties.

The game got off to a quick start with the Martlets throwing up six points in a row to take an early lead against the Stingers.  As I watched the energetic Martlets run up and down the court, I couldn’t help but notice how chic the girls looked in their pink uniforms next to the Stingers in their boring black uniforms with only a hint of red and gold.  I felt quite empowered by the players while although donning their overly feminine outfits were also kicking some serious butt on the court, showing the Stingers they weren’t about to get beat on their home court.

The excitement and pace of the game persisted even as the girls rested for a time-out or at the end of each quarter with regular performances given by McGill’s cheerleading squad. During half time an exceptional and heartwarming number performed by McGill’s very own Tonal Ecstasy entertained the crowd.  As the game continued, more McGill fans showed up, creating a Valentine’s Day effect amongst the crowd, some wearing red and white, others wearing pink.  Although the Martlets held the lead for the entire game, the last ten seconds were as exciting as a championship game.  The Martlets not only scored themselves another win for their undefeated season, they also raised breast cancer awareness, and they did so in style.

A Chilly Win for Fugacity

Last weekend, I had the pleasure of enduring sixty minutes of what has most arguably been Montreal’s chilliest weather this fall.  As I stood in the freezing cold, pining for the warmth of my bed and some mindless downloaded television on my laptop, I tried to remember why I was even outside in the first place.  As a sharp and icy gust of wind jumped down my jacket, I remembered how I had promised my friend that if her intramural soccer team made it to the finals, I would go to the game to show my support.  If only I had known that my friend’s team would actually make it all the way to the finals and the game would take place on the coldest day of the year I probably would have turned down her invitation.  It wasn’t actually the coldest day of the year, but for the first week of November, it was far too chilly for my liking.

Since misery loves company, I dragged my roommate with me up to Forbes Field where the game was being played.  Once we arrived, with about five minutes to spare before the game started, the two teams, the Molson Legends and Fugacity, were each huddled together on the sidelines, bouncing up and down, in attempt to warm up before hitting the field.  I immediately felt horrible for these two teams of girls, wearing only shorts and sweatshirts underneath their jerseys.  Once the teams hit the field, I recognized about half of them, which undeniably made the game more interesting. 

The game got off to a very quick start with both the ball and girls flying in every direction.  It appeared that my friend and I, as well as two other boys (I assume they were dedicated boyfriends of two players) were the only fans present at the game.  The players, however, on both teams, were entirely unbothered by this.  These girls meant business on the field- I have never seen so much aggression, intensity, concentration and seriousness during an intramural game before.  The one time I participated on an intramural team, it was all fun and giggles- probably the reason we did not succeed in making it past the first round of play-offs.  Anyways, the level of skill of these girls was very impressive and as soon as a forward of Fugacity scored the first goal, the game became even more heated.  Having said that, I was still freezing and hoping for a concession stand selling hot dogs and hot chocolate to magically appear. 

The second half was just as intense.  Anytime a ball would hit one of the players’ legs I couldn’t help but flinch and grimace.  The sound the ball made upon making contact with a set of bare legs was awful, and made me thankful that I was a spectator who was wearing pants.  Fugacity scored another goal, and unfortunately the Molson Legends were unable to catch up by the time the last whistle was blown.  The members of Fugacity were awarded glass mugs- a strange alternative to a trophy or medal, but nonetheless, proof of their hard work and success as this year’s intramural soccer champions.  As for me, I was awarded a hug from my friend for my support and permission to return to the warmth of my apartment.           

No Doubt The Redmen Are More Golden Than Any Gael

After an extremely long, stressful and tiring week of midterms, papers and assignments, McGill students had this year’s “Fill the Arena” Redmen hockey game to look forward to.  In fact, the only thing that kept me moderately sane during the last week was knowing that come Saturday night, I would be decked out in my red apparel, nestled in between close friends on a cold bench, delicious beer in one hand, hot dog in the other, cheering on one of our school’s most accomplished varsity teams as they take on our second most despised rivalry, Queen’s University.

As with the majority of sporting events at McGill, I attended this weekend’s hockey game not to engage as a spectator to Canada’s favorite sport, but to take part in the social event that is a hockey game at McGill.  By the time my friends and I had our trekked our way up to McConnell arena at around 6:45, the stands were already packed with face-painted members of Red Thunder and other McGill fans eagerly awaiting the start of the game, and the Redmen were warming up on the ice, accompanied by the loud cheers of those who, I assume, partook in the pre-game festivities at BDP.  

By the time the first puck dropped, McGill fans were as rowdy as Habs fans during last May’s play-off riot on St. Catherines.  Some fans were already on their feet, faces pressed against the glass, cheering on the Redmen players as they warmed up and living up to the reputation of McGill fans as being the most boisterous.  Any Queen’s fans, which appeared to be a very small group of players’ parents and grandparents, were forced to endure a string of loud and persistent chants and rants in favor of the Redmen. 

The Redmen scored their first goal (of seven) five minutes into the first period.  Fans arriving late to the game were somewhat confused as they entered an arena of screaming and standing fans.  Realizing that the Redmen had just scored, some fans were so caught off guard by excitement that they dropped their drinks to join in on the cheering.  One fan in particular, upon realizing that the first goal had been scored, watched in despair as her hot dog fell to the ground.  She made the right decision in leaving it there and joining the red sea of McGill fans in the stands.

The Redmen scored two more goals during the first period.  With each goal scored, McGill fans grew more rowdy, excited and spirited.  I almost felt bad for the parents and fans on the Queen’s side of the arena as fans proceeded to erupt in cheers whenever a Redmen player so much as made a successful pass to another player.  I did not feel bad, however, because only those foolish enough would attend a McGill home hockey game with the expectation of being able to sit back and relax, while watching their son get crushed by the Redmen. 

The second period would have been tragic to witness had I been cheering for Queen’s.  After scoring four more goals, the Redmen were dominating 7-0 and a comeback from Queen’s seemed very unlikely.  It wasn’t until the third period that the Queen’s team was able to squeeze in their only goal, but that was it.  The better University, I mean team, remained on top for the entire duration of the game, reminding Queen’s of our superiority not only as a hockey team but also as a school.  McGill students have a tendency to channel their McGill pride through their school spirit at sporting events, and this game was no exception.  Marlet Girl is expecting big things from this year’s Redmen hockey team.  Good job, boys!

Put a Little "Boot" in Your Life

After last weekend's four-day food binge, more commonly known as Thanksgiving, I returned back to classes feeling a few pounds heavier.  They say that you are what you eat, and after a few too many slices of pumpkin pie I was beginning to worry that without any immediate action I was going to start resembling a pumpkin.  As we all know, returning home for Thanksgiving means that you are going to be consuming at least twice the amount of food you would on your student budget at university.
As per usual, I ate myself into unconsciousness three of the four nights I was home.  Some people would call this a food coma, a state wherein you have consumed so much food you literally cannot do anything but sit on the couch and watch television. As a result of the three such food comas over the Thanksgiving weekend, my first priority upon returning to school was hitting the gym and ridding my body of the pounds of sugar, butter and stuffing I had consumed over the last four days.


When I returned Monday evening however, the gym was closed so my plans were postponed until the next morning. Tuesday, after a decent workout, I left the gym still feeling bloated and in danger of rolling back down the hill to my apartment.  It was then that I decided activity slightly more rigorous and challenging than forty-five minutes on the treadmill and some sit-ups was needed.  It was time for Boot Camp.

Boot Camp classes at McGill are offered every Wednesday night in the Aerobics room from 6:00 to 6:55 pm. Part of the Pay-As-You-Go fitness program, the classes are open to all McGill students.  Accompanied by a friend, who was also suffering from post-Thanksgiving pumpkin shape syndrome, I arrived right before the class started. The room was packed full of girls all with a wide variety of equipment set up in front of them. After quickly assembling our own stations, that included exercise balls, weights, resistance bands and aerobic steps, the class got started.

We began with a standard warm-up of lunges, punches, and stretches after which things started speeding up.  During the basic aerobic routines however it became very clear that the class was overbooked for the evening.  Apparently I wasn't the only one hoping to sweat off a little excess turkey.  That so many people were there, however, made it difficult to fully execute some of the kicks and cross-body punches for fear of knocking out the brunette beside me.

In spite of the lack of space, the class definitely got me sweating.  In fact I was sweating so much I was excessively thankful that no cute boys were there to see me, the sweating pumpkin, kicking, punching and doing obscure abdominal exercises on a giant purple bouncy ball. 

Notwithstanding the balanced combination of cardio and muscle toning exercises, which overall provided a reasonable workout, I don't think that Martlet Girl will be returning to Boot Camp anytime soon.  I was under the impression from the name of the class that I would be under the supervision of some muscular and intimidating army officer, breathing down my neck demanding that I work harder and faster.  This Boot Camp class, however, turned out to be more like an aerobic dance class that incorporated exercises on the ground, on the purple bouncy ball and with weights, under the direction of a fellow student.  I cannot deny that it was enjoyable, however, and a great way to satisfy my daily need for exercise and time with a friend, but I believe less chance of injuring myself on a treadmill than in a congested room of girls, large bouncy balls, a variety of weights and limbs flailing left, right and centre.