I can breathe again. I gave my teacher a Pilates lesson and she liked it! I spent the past week obsessed with this lesson. I made at least seven different lists of the Pilates exercises I would teach her. I wrote one on the airplane to San Diego to attend Comic Con. I wrote lists in the special notebook I keep just for Pilates. I wrote them in the margins of the newspaper while finishing breakfast. I typed them and eventually I think I even dreamed them.
When I had finally decided on the 18 different exercises and the order in which I would teach them, I started practicing. I don't have all the Pilates equipment at home, so I had to pretend. My family gave me odd looks when they found me pantomiming how I would move the springs on the reformer from one set-up to another. I not only imitated the motions for each exercise, I also practice giving cues to my imaginary student, out loud.
Afraid I wouldn't sleep, I reviewed my list and revised my notes up until right before I went to bed. Then I got up extra early so I could arrive at the studio with time to practice the entire work-out. I spent over an hour doing the exercises, intermittently checking my instructors' manual and making changes in my set-up notes.
When the time for the lesson finally arrived, I was nervous, but I was also prepared. After about 30 minutes, my teacher said, "You're doing great. Really, you're doing a really good job." I could feel my whole body relax.
There was more feedback, mostly positive, but some constructive comments too. I particularly need to smooth out my patter, get it down to the few really effective cue words for each exercise. But I'm pumped, because it is so clear that I've progressed since the last time I taught my teacher.
I feel great. Which is good, because I gotta get going on my next work-out plan. My teacher put herself on my schedule in two weeks and I want to be ready.
