“Slap it!” commands Jorge with a smile….
Feet planted, I’m canted backwards at 45 degrees, suspended by one hand on the TRX , to which I’m holding for dear life, with the other hand I’m twisting down to touch the ground and then, reach upwards and give Jorge a high five.
Although apparently mine is a kind of a limp high three-and-a-half.
“It’s a hand, not a testicle,” he calls. “Slap it!”
I laugh….and slap harder.
He knows how to get a reaction. As a newbie, I get a bit of a concession. No plyometrics–jumping–required for me. Although we’re at Yoga Works in El Segundo there’s nothing at all yoga-esque here, it’s more boot camp mantra. Jorge is both doing, and yelling, and encouraging.
“We’re all in this together,” he calls, “This whole Rip Trainer routine is totally new. You are probably among the first 200 people to do this work.”
The Rip Trainer….imagine a metal bar with handles…attached with a long bungee cord at one end to a wall. You use it to do all kinds of exercises, rowing things, moves simulating martial arts weapons, side pulls of infinite variations. Gives a whole new level of meaning to: “it’s all about the core.”
Huff. Puff. “Kayak rows!! Other side! You’ll thank me later.” I Keep feeling like I’m swiveling to the right, which effort only keeps me centered…which is the point.
Since the RIP trainer is only attached at one end to the wall, you are ALWAYS off balance, being stretched extra on one side, you need to use those central muscles to keep from doing a half-pirouette.
Or have the thing come flying out of your hand. Which apparently has happened. Since there’s a little leash, as in skis or a surfboard, on the wrist side that’s not attached.
At the end of the workout, I expect an instant transformation….Although the class is only 50 minutes, it feels like about two hours.
“You don’t really feel pain until tomorrow,” says Jessica.
I can hardly wait.
