Hula Hooping Myself in Circles

Last night I took a hula hoop class at the local rec center. That may be the most perfect example of a small town activity ever. I can’t explain exactly what compelled me to go.  I mean I DO own a hula hoop. Someone gave it to me last summer for my birthday. I thought it was a random gift, but it seemed a hit at the party. I would say it was split right down the middle — the guests that could and could not work the hoop. It had never occurred to me that anyone couldn’t keep that little sphere afloat, but apparently there are many who struggle with this challenge. I was not one of them. That said, I hung the bedazzled hoop in the garage for the winter and didn’t revisit it until last night.

The class cost a whopping $14 for one hour.  I figured at that rate, there must be some sort of mystery skills they would impart. I showed up on time with my bottle of water, in case it turned out to be somehow aerobic. The attendees consisted of one random man and four mature women, how my friend, who happens to also be “mature,” described them. I had a lightning flash when she said that: what if I showed up and they were all my age and therefore she meant I was simply immature? Well, as it turned out, they were all 50+, so  that settled that.

We circled up and class began with the basic twirling around the waist. The teacher was suffering from a bad back and decided to sit in the center most the class, which I found ironic somehow. About half the circle was humming along, but the other half repeatedly dropped their hoop, which gave me some sort of strange satisfaction. She had to instruct them how to throw it parallel to the ground and how to then grind their hips to keep it in motion. I realized that no one had ever taught me, but it was something I learned early and just intuitively knew how to do. I have to say there was some degree of relief that I was arguably the best in class.

Next came the walking across the room while hooping, then running. The instructor demonstrated this by casually walking in a straight line. I have no idea how she managed it, as I had to zig and zag and grind in a frenzied rush to keep mine going. I imagined how insane we’d look doing  this down at the beachfront. Next we did squats while gyrating our hips to keep that little hoop moving. This was even harder, and I was dying of heat. Off came my sweater, and I did a time check: 30 minutes down. Jesus, I thought. We are only half way done and I’m overheating and wanting to sit down.

Our following task was to turn out from the circle, so as not to see one another, although admittedly I did peek more than once to get my bearings and see how everyone was holding up. We were then told to hoop with our eyes shut for five whole minutes. It was a strange sensation when you closed off the sense of sight. It felt like someones hands were on my hips over and over and my arms got so heavy. Suddenly I felt very disoriented and my hips started doing jagged back-forth motions instead of the rhythmic circles of before. I dropped my hoop at least four times with a loud slam. I could feel they were gaining on me.

Our final task gave our hips a much needed break. We were shown how to swirl the hoop above our head with first one, then alternating hands. We could squat or take side steps if we wanted to look more styled. Mastering this and all the other moves seemed really important in the confines of that room. Now, with some time and space to reflect, I realize that those skill give me no cred in the real world. In fact, it’s not something I could really even do in public, at my age. However, at the time, I approached it with the seriousness of the SAT. I compared myself to all other participants and decided if I was 1st, 2nd or 3rd, moment by moment.

I take this same approach to most things. It doesn’t matter if it’s the sewing class at the community college or weight lifting at the gym. I know it’s not in my best interest, but I can’t help it. I count, I organize and I compare nearly everything. At least I’m aware of it though. That’s the first step, right?

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