boxing and roses

My pool in Paris (as I am not the biggest fan of swimming I am also pretty picky with pools) had an aqua gym-day today. This means that from 9am onwards they had different aqua classes free of charge – well obviously not for free but with no additional cost. So, I decided to go for boxing.

I jumped into the pool with several older ladies, few overly active looking sporty people and few giggling teenagers. This was looking very promising – I think. The instructor turned the music on and we started jumping in the water like boxers in the ring. This proved surprisingly difficult, to the point that few people gave up. Hit. Kick. Kick back.

45min later I had turned blue and decided to skip stretching. I had no interested in staying in the water any longer. I ran into the hot shower and stood there until I slowly started to melt. My legs felt heavy. In fact I felt like I had just done a very long run. Then again, this was to be expected.

When I finally climbed out of the dressing room one of the instructors handed me a rose. A yellow rose. I must have looked slightly puzzled so he explained that it was for mothers’ day. I was even more confused – mothers’ day was ages ago. “I know but I forgot about it then. And mothers are always worth remembering.” Fine, I thought, but I am not a mother. “But you might be one day and then you might not come here and then you won’t get a rose”. Right, true enough. I thanked for the flower and opened the door – behind me I heard one of the older ladies giggling when she got her rose – “to all beautiful young mothers’”. Right, true enough, after all age is only about attitude, or something.

I jumped on my yellow bike with my yellow rose – summer makes people go mad. And I will stick to my aqua jogging.