I got my ass kicked by senior citizens.

On Tuesday, I took a Pilates class. It's the first fitness class I've taken in roughly 30 years. (From that reference, you might think that I'm a senior citizen myself and you'd be correct.) For most of my life, I've relied on what I could do without paying someone to tell me how to do it: walk, hike, bike; situps, pushups, and the like. This method, it seems, has served me well. I feel fit; I look fit; and, I feel great. I don't remember why I thought I should try a Pilates class but I figured it couldn't be all that hard. Besides, the class I was taking was in a gym whose membership is entirely made up of senior citizens. How hard could it be?

Pilates is all about balance, stretching, and strengthening the core muscles. Or so I thought. Once upon a time, I purchased a book (limiting my fitness expense to the book alone) and tried the exercises at home. I  don't know if it had the desired effect, or even what effect I was going for. It was just the popular fitness craze at the time so I thought I would try it.

It's popular again with gyms (they're called studios now) devoted to the practice. This form of exercise (and I never really thought of it as exercise) has been modified to incorporate equipment which means not only more of an investment if one is to do it at home but requires an instructor which, as I've mentioned, I usually avoid.

Whatever possessed me, I signed up for the class.

I was the last to arrive and noticed that everyone had a yoga mat, a ball (such as one you would use for dodgeball or foursquare), a giant rubber band, and hand weights. Although I expected the yoga mat, I couldn't imagine what the rest of it was for. A very helpful white-haired man helped me gather all the requisite equipment from around the gym - er, studio - and the class began.

We started innocently enough with some stretching and range of motion exercises that incorporated the ball and the rubber band. Then, we proceeded to sit-ups combined with leg lifts. Later, we were instructed to clamp a hand weight behind one knee by bringing our heel to our buns and then lifting our leg behind us while we were on all fours (well, threes if you don't count the leg we were lifting). I couldn't keep my weight in place and dropped it on my other stationary ankle. At that point, I decided it was safer to proceed without the weight.

Finally, we did an exercise that closely resembled squats and we did them in slow motion which exercised the quadriceps - the fronts of our thighs. I'm not sure how many we did but I can tell you, it was not my core muscles that were begging for me to stop. When the class was over, all the senior citizens got up and put their equipment away while I lay on my mat and wondered if I should call to get a ride or if I could still walk home. Although I fared the rest of the class fairly well, my legs were shaky.

On Wednesday, my legs were so sore, I took a bath with Epsom salt which helped a little but by evening, I could barely get myself in or out of a chair. I had decided I would do some baking but when I realized that my mixing bowls were on the bottom shelf, I decided it wasn't worth the effort to crouch down to get them. Laundry was similarly out of the question as the dirty clothes were on the floor.

Today is Thursday and I had wanted to take a Zumba class offered by the same Pilates studio. Even though I would have had to pay for the class, Zumba doesn't appeal to me as an activity to be done alone. Besides, it sounded fun: music and dancing. Again, I asked myself, how hard could it be?

Well, I won't be fooled by these white-haired senior citizens once more. If I sign up for Zumba, I'll never walk again!