It was time for me to try a new way to work off the stress and stay strong.
That was my decision after 10 years of the same old aerobics and step classes. Knowing my likes (challenging myself, having fun and being able to mark progress) and dislikes (monotonous routines, competing for Stairmasters and blaring televisions), I sought out a workout called Pilates (pronounced puh-LAH-teez).
Seventy years after Joseph Pilates developed the technique–popular among dancers since Martha Graham’s days–it has been getting a boost from celebrity disciples (Madonna, Sharon Stone, Uma Thurman, Bill Murray) and models, who swear it keeps them svelte and fit. The resurgence has helped make finding Pilates studios in South Florida easier.
Through the Internet, I found Ana Caban, a former dancer and certified Pilates instructor who opened Progressive BodyWorks in Miami’s Design District last August. We arranged a private session, customary when doing Pilates.
The plus side of private sessions is the personal attention. The drawback? Money. Expect to pay between $55 and $75 for sessions using Pilates equipment, though group classes done on mats can be found for $10 to $15 a class.
As I walked into Caban’s studio, it was immediately clear I wasn’t in Bally’s anymore. Inside a squat orange stucco building, I walked into a large, loftlike room painted light yellow and filled with terra cotta tiles, plants, sunlight and jazz. The setting felt like a cross between an art studio (Caban also exhibits local artists) and a warm home.
“I didn’t want people to feel like they were in a gym factory,” says Caban, who came to Miami after teaching Spanish in Brooklyn schools and at St. Hugh Catholic School in Coconut Grove, Fla.
If it was different I was after, I’d found it. Pilates is the antithesis of what you typically do inside neon-lit gyms, regardless of the setting. You don’t jump up and down to thumping rhythms. You don’t do sets with weights. You never hear beeping electronic equipment. You might not even work up a sweat.
It’s low-impact, but deceptively intense. If you’re accustomed to the no-pain, no-gain workout style, you might not realize how hard you’re working.
I didn’t, which is probably why after my first session it took three days till I could comfortably walk down a flight of stairs again.
What you do during a Pilates session, whether working with apparatus or on the mat, is a series of controlled moves tied to correct posture and breathing. The small movements stretch and lengthen your muscles and create a lean look as opposed to bulk.
Caban, petite with a lithe dancer’s body, started me off by putting me on “the reformer”–a plum-colored, cushioned carriage that sits on what looks like a medieval wooden rack. The carriage is connected to the wooden frame by long metal springs and moves back and forth on wheels. It also has straps to rope around your hands or feet.
After watching Caban demonstrate, I laid face-up on the mattress, bent my knees as much as possible, glued my heels together and pointed my toes out, as instructed. Then, using my legs, I pushed off from the starting position in a smooth glide to avoid snapping the springs until my legs were completely straight. By my fifth repetition, I was surprised at how difficult it was to push through the tension.
“Navel to spine,” Caban sternly reminded. “Think of your navel being weighted down. It’s just resting flat.
“Keep the Pilates position, like a small first position. When you keep your heels together, you’re engaging the inner thighs. Don’t let them fall apart.”
My calves never knew what hit them –until the next morning.
Soreness aside, when you continue Pilates as part of an overall healthy lifestyle, followers say the exercise increases body awareness, improves posture, increases concentration, tones muscle and helps heal certain injuries.
Pilates can quickly get complicated. You can perform dozens of movements on the reformer alone, before starting on “the chair,” “the barrel,” or “the Cadillac.”
Pilates, who died in 1967, developed more than 500 movements, all of which require concentration and a healthy dose of will. Each movement focuses on technique; you repeat each only a few times, stopping before form gets sloppy.
While still on the reformer, I added the straps to do an exercise called “the hundreds.” To get into position, I straightened my legs and raised them about 20 inches off the cushion while Caban handed me straps to hold in each hand. The straps were taut, because they’re attached to the springs below the carriage. It felt as though it would take me all day if I had to do all this maneuvering myself, but Caban said she can complete a routine alone on the machine in about 25 minutes.
As soon as Caban counted “One, two, three,” I began bouncing my hands at my sides and exhaled for five counts, then inhaled for five, keeping my legs raised the entire time. My stomach wanted to give out and my legs drop, but I was too busy breathing. “Sssshhhhh . . . sssshhhhh . . . sssshhhhh.”
Finally, she got to 100, and I slowly lowered my feet and raised my hands, careful to avoid snapping the springs. Then I broke into laughter. I can see why they used to call Pilates “contrology.” It’s all about control.
And all about your middle, as well. The exercises concentrate on the stomach, lower back and rear end–the area Pilates called “the center of power.” A strong middle, he reasoned, better supports the limbs and better absorbs lower back tension (common for dancers such as Caban).
I returned to the studio two days later to try what one client’s husband calls “poor girl’s Pilates”–the mat classes. They may not be as sexy–you work out on a mat, not on the apparatus–but mat classes are just as tough. I did some of the same moves as I tried on the reformer (like “the hundreds”) and learned new ones that are even more difficult.
