As I looked through the past statuses (statii?) on my Facebook history, I came across this gem:

“Let’s all imagine we’re having a wee.  Ok, stop mid-flow and now roll from side to side like a baby.”

At first, I wondered if I’d stumbled upon someone else’s weird sexual practice, and then realised it was just me talking about Chi Ball.

For the purposes of research, and my continued attempt to get buns (and stomach and thighs) of steel, I had just attended my first Chi Ball class. Run by the brilliantly camp Mark, the class was a mixture of functional core training, deep breathing, relaxation and dancing around to Middle Eastern music.  All whilst holding a small rubber ball that gives off a perfumed aroma as it heats up.  I promise you, I’m not making this up.

It is a combination of Yoga, Pilates, Qi Gong (Qi who?) and Chi Ball Dance – impossible to picture, especially when you consider the average participant age is 60 (really, I only go because I like to be the youngest in the class), but, sweating aside, it was a lot of fun.

I like the fact the class is so very different to anything else.  It keeps me coming back to the gym when quite frankly, some days, I’d rather stay in bed and watch ‘Coming to America’ (oops, guilty secret alert).

Variety is the spice of life, right!?

And the best bit of the whole class?  You get to lie down for ten whole minutes at the end and relax.  Do ab-so-lute-ly nothing.  If you’re anything like me, the only time I do that is when I crawl into bed at midnight and collapse into a coma-like sleep, so to snatch ten minutes of at least trying to switch off was bliss.

For that reason alone, it’s worth going back.  That, and Mark’s encouragement to all ‘hold our wee’ – and approaching 40, I need all the help I can get.

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Published by Kate Sutton

Writer, Mother, Dater.