Been hearing about TRX for a year or so…the amazing workout that’s all the rage.
The subtext is always how hard it is. Do you dare?
I’ll pretty much do anything. Trapeze. Hiking ‘til my toes bleed. Ride my bike 100 miles. Aerial silks.
An invite was all it took. “Jorge will kick your butt.”
I knew TRX has a high-testosterone reputation. TRX founder Randy Hetrick was a Navy Seal, turned Stanford MBA, turned fitness entrepreneur. He goes for the macho customers: the Marines, fire departments, the NFL.
Makes good entrepreneur-sense. If it’s good enough for the Marines, it’s good enough for me. That’s what I’m thinking as I lace up my work-out shoes.
“Oh no,” says Jessica as we head over to YogaWorks. “We do it barefoot.”
And here I am with all of this equipment. This kind of a strap, latched up over my head. The Rip Trainer bar—at first I thought he said “RIB trainer”—that we attach across the room. The yoga block I recognize. Suspend this from the ceiling, adjust strap length, and GO.
“Not your Grandma’s squats!” yells Jorge. “Deeper. Deeper. Step in, Karen.”
Of course I’ve figured out that if I’m not actually leaning outwards using the TRX strap, as in with my body weight, then the squats are WAY easier.
With only 12 of us in the class, there is nowhere to hide. Newbie? Doesn’t matter.
“This is my fourth work-out of the day,” says Jorge, “so I’ve got so sympathy!” How does he manage to both do everything, and be everywhere at once?
Why didn’t I wear a headband so my hair won’t stick to my face? So the sweat won’t drip into my eyes?
And how will I get through the hour?
