Confirmation

Tuesdays are pilates days for me. The one class I write on my calendar, and try my hardest to make. No excuses like, "I'm tired", "I have a gazillion other things I need to be doing", or "My husband snored all night" (hi schnooky). I give myself enough time to get there and try and work the 4 chambers of my heart pretty good before I walk into Penny's class. Penny is tough as nails. She has been trained by some the most well known pilates people around. She takes her job very seriously, and expects you too as well. She'll throw out things like, "If you turn your palms towards your legs and lift your pinky, you are engaging your gluteus minimus". Seriously. She knows her stuff. I have a Bachelor's in Exercise Physiology and she baffles even me sometimes. I love it. Love her style of teaching, love that I walk away from every single class with some random tidbit like where the psoas muscle is and that I've worked it.

Yesterday we were doing an exercise called Bow and Arrow at the end of class. Out of the middle of nowhere, I heard a "Very nice Nicole" from the front of the room. It was like the heavens opened and rays of sunlight where shining on little old me. Penny does not throw out compliments unless she means it.  A compliment from her is the equivelent of a real letter in the mailbox, an anonymous grouping of flowers left somewhere in the house, breakfast in bed, or that random bag of Starburst you find in your pantry that you hid from your children and totally forgot about. I don't get all that many "Very nice Nicole's" from Penny, so when I do, you can bet I relish in them. And something tells me she does it that way on purpose. They have a much bigger effect when not said every single class. So I walked back to my car after class with a cheesy little grin on my face, a little hop in my step, and thinking my illiotibial band was a little sore.