Ouch! Oooooh! Ohh! OW!!!

Did you guess? I'm just back from my Pilates class. Pisces and I decided we needed to add an extra class a week - in his case to try to strengthen his lower back so he can do a bit more and in mine to avoid hip surgery. It's good -  really. It's just that as soon as you reach a level and you're cruising along the physiotherapist ups the ante. This class is more a general one and the fact that the other three women in it could be my daughters - and don't have the same number of physical issues I have  - does make it a tad intimidating but, yes, it's good.

Just over two years ago I was told that the only chance I had of avoiding major surgery on my hips was a serious, targeted exercise programme - and I hate "exercise". Don't get me wrong. I like being active and until my knees and hips packed up on me - thanks (not) for the inheritance whoever you were who brought this arthritic condition into the family line - I loved walking. The dog and I would go for miles but that's a very different thing from repeating some movement over. "Exercise" bores me witless so all that made me begin Pilates was fear that I'd end up completely disabled.

So far, though, it's working. From someone who was in so much hip pain I couldn't lie on my side, making sound sleep only a memory and exhaustion my constant companion, and so unsteady that I had to hang onto something whatever exercise I attempted so I wouldn't fall over, I'm now able to do an hour session without being ready to collapse at the end, my balance has improved and so has my overall strength.

Do I still hate "exercise"? You betcha. Am I going to keep doing it? I certainly am. I'll never be able to run a marathon but I'm fitter and one of the good things I've discovered about small exercise classes is that you build up a relationship with the others in the group and having a chat as you exercise helps to dispel the mind numbing boredom of the repetition. Who'd have thought it.