So, the Pilates must be working because I’m getting slower going up hill, not faster. And skating? That really fatigues me.
I know, it seems like a contradiction. Aren’t I doing Pilates to make my life easier? Yes, and no. I’m doing it to make my life easier someday. I’m doing it to make myself stronger now and in the future. And as part of this what I’ve really found is that through Pilates I’m activating muscles that haven’t worked in years. Some of them are muscles that were disconnected during the surgery, but not all. Some are muscles that just stopped working, or worked less, years before the surgery, when I was compensating for pain and discomfort.
Now those muscles are awake again. And, they have to work. Well, I suppose they don’t have to work, but my body wants them to. Anyone who has recovered from a surgery will know this feeling; anyone who has started a new exercise or weight lifting routine will know something similar. You get the burn, that’s undeniable burn. But, with this it’s a little more than that. For me, going for a skate or hiking up a hill and actually using the muscles that haven’t been working, or working correctly, in years goes beyond burn. I get fatigue. I feel like I’m doing twice the work I’m actually doing. But, I also know that the muscle is rebuilding, and that next time I’ll be less fatigued, feel less burn. Keep up this combo of Pilates and life and I actually might be back in my pre-surgery form before too long.
On another note: those exercises on the Cadillac, where I circle my leg in the air, they are actually becoming a bit easier. I have more turn out in the hip, and less fatigue. Nice when things come together this way.
Danae has me on the Cadillac—a bench with lots of springs and things on it—and is changing things up on me. Seems there’s a lot of that going on in Pilates.
The Cadillac is interesting for me for the possibilities and limitations it offers. One of the most frustrating, yet compelling, exercises is seemingly simple and begins with my lying on my back (core engaged, of course) with one leg straight in front of me, the other one straight up in the air. Fundamentally, I’m drawing circles in the air, first circling the leg out and around, then reversing directions so my leg passes above the opposite knee first and crosses the body. For the left side this is moderately easy—well, as easy as an exercise should be, I suppose. Then, we switch legs and it’s time for the right side to do the work.
I actually hear myself grunt. Out loud. And not quietly. My goal on this leg is not just to do the exercise, but to be aware of keeping my hip open, of rolling the muscles across my quad and thigh to the outside. It is nearly impossible. And so my leg trembles—no, it shakes—above me as I lie on my back and, yes, grunt, loudly.
Still, as difficult as this may be it tells me something and shows me just how my body has adjusted and compensated, how it has made up new rules for how to perform. Now, it seems, with a little help from Atlas it’s my turn to break those habits. The body was designed to perform efficiently and my body’s revised plan on how it should perform isn’t efficient. It isn’t helpful. Exercises such as this are incredibly difficult, but it seems like I can actually feel the scar tissue giving up a little deep in that hip, and the muscles engaging again.
The scale lies.
The scale must be lying because it’s not moving, not really arcing downward and yet I can see this change in my body. It’s the kind of change that usually only comes with weight loss for me. I’ve been noticing for weeks now that my belly has been shrinking. That blessed bulge every woman seems to get at some point in her life—often times I think it doesn’t appear until the 30s or 40s—has been wilting away so that already it is nearly gone.
I suppose that’s not to be entirely surprised at. While we all know that Pilates works the core, and the stomach truly is the body’s core, what isn’t always apparent is what, really, is happening. One of the muscles that Pilates works is the transversus abdominis (TVA), a muscle layer of the anterior and lateral abdominal wall which resides immediately beneath the internal obliques. The TVA helps stabilize the pelvis. It also rather acts as a girdle around the midsection. Keep that deep, TVA muscle in shape it seems and not only will you help stabilize the spine and pelvis (and therein reduce pressure on your discs) you’ll also seemingly tighten the corset. And we all know how nice and flat Scarlet O’Hara’s corseted stomach looked.
Here’s the thing, though: my new body shape doesn’t end in side view. I’m seeing a change when I face that mirror head on, too. My thighs—my Achilles heel—look smaller; my shape looks more proportional. In fact, when I stand in front of the mirror I see something I’ve never seen before, with or without weight loss: My waist—which is quite narrow by nature—looks longer. I am built with one of those hourglass shapes, but this new look is especially heartening. From the hips to ribs I look longer, taller. How delightful. Seems the fact that the scale won’t give me a break is no matter if I can keep morphing this way.
