I Fall To Pieces

And now the furnace is busted.

All That I've Left is a Band of Mould

What I didn't include in that last post was why, when I finally and happily arrived home from my weekend of sadistic fun, my high was cut down like a sucker punch in the solar plexus.

"Congratulations, but I have bad news," Husband said immediately. "The second-floor bathroom ceiling fell in."

Thankfully, no one was hurt. But I suspect our bank account will have a scar for a while.

We had noticed a few drips a couple of weeks back. We cleaned out the eavestrough, thinking that was the problem and, sure enough, the drips stopped. But we had a hard rain on Saturday which brought the ceiling down, displaying a colourful array of mould. Nice.

It turned out that we had a bare spot on our roof, not that we could see it. A roofer came by early this week and patched that up but told us that there's nothing under our shingles. I know the people we bought the house from and learned they did the roof a year before we bought it. Of course, my next question was, "And who did the work?" I want to make sure we avoid the company at all costs.

So the short of the story is that we need to tear down the entire bathroom ceiling, air out the mould and remove it. Then we'll do a bit of renovating.

The funny thing is that we were discussing short- and long-term goals at my training weekend. I mentioned that I want to earn more money so I can start on renovating that bathroom, which was supposed to be a project I was going to tackle with my dad. Looks like there's no time like the present.

My BodyPump Instructor Training Experience

Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. I'm sore, yes, but I can still climb stairs and sit.

So - hooray - I passed the Pump training weekend. It was crazy but so very cool. I wasn't the oldest (there were two other women in their mid 40s). I wasn't the fattest, either (two others were heavier than me, I reckon). Still, I went in there, looked at the group of 19 and thought, er, should I even be in their midst? There was a natural body building champion (and she was absolutely gorgeous to boot - no, I loved her), more than half the class were already certified Les Mills instructors (tons in Combat), and fricking everyone was wearing Lululemon and makeup. My middle sister warned me...

Should I have been there? Well, my worries were quelled right off the bat when we ripped right into a masterclass. My friend and instructor, SVN, was so right. I had more weight than anyone (even equalled one of the three guys). The skinnies around me saw me slapping on the 10s during squats. "Seriously? You can do those weights? Do you need a spotter to get it over your head?" I giggled and told them I'm a mom and I live in the country and swung that baby over my head like it was a scarf. Respect from other participants? Check!

There was lots of mental work on the first day. Discussing choreography and technique took up most of the afternoon. We did some more physical challenges, broke for dinner (I went with the bodybuilder and another woman who trains in a big city south of me. Why? We were the alternative girls. How alternative? The nearby woman is named Morticia. True story). Because I signed in but went to the bathroom before getting my stuff and signing up for a track, I was left with two choices: lunges or shoulders. So because of my crappy ankle and the ear infection that's screwing up my balance, I chose lunges. Makes total sense, right?

Went back to my sister's, with a bundle of nerves. Opened up Jools's portable DVD player to rehearse, rehearse, rehearse, and found the card she made me. And I cried. Hard. Had a crappy sleep (I could hear the lunge track in my dreams). Woke up waaay too early. Drove to North York, not being able to listen to music at all and feeling like I wanted to barf. We presented in groups of three - so three people are simultaneously teaching the same track in another part of the studio. I was presenting with a superstar step instructor and possibly east Toronto's most popular Combat instructor (another Combat instructor was pretty much laying prostrate before her all weekend). But I dug in, nailed the choreography and was highly complimented on my technique after everyone watched the video that was taken of me. The trainer said my coaching was good for a first timer, but that I needed to vary my voice and use sharper arm movements. He asked how I felt. I said that it was not unlike giving birth: much nervous anticipation, hurt like hell, felt very vulnerable, and then complete relief when it was over with a real sense of accomplishment.

The rest of Saturday was very physical. There was one challenge that was going to be saved for the afternoon but we worked through what was supposed to be our lunch break because, seriously, if you did this on a full stomach, you'd hurl. So, get this: there's five stations positioned around the studio. Each station has a set of six barbells, starting with 7.5 kg on each end and the other five bars are in increments of 2.5 kg. The stations had two different moves each (eg. squats and clean-and-press) which we had to do 20 reps with a weight 50 to 75 per cent more than what you regularly use. Yeah, I entered the hurt box. We broke for lunch and seven of us all decided we wanted hot protein. I swear, it was the best chicken souvlaki I have ever tasted. A little more blah, blah, blah on coaching and connecting which was very cool to have the instructors with us sharing what works for them in their Attack class or whatever.

Then, with the morning's critique and armed with what we learned so far, we presented our tracks again. I did even better. The trainer said my group was the most advanced threesome he's seen in a long time (maybe he was just being nice, but I took it). We were "master technicians" and I was singled out for being so far advanced for someone who has never done this before. Of course, a lot of what I did up there, I stole from classes I've taken back home. After we watched this second video, I was told that I'm a natural at connecting with the participants but I need to keep them hooked in because I varied my range of voice to the extremes. I was too quiet during the transitions and too animated in other parts. Balance has never been my forte.

Before we broke for the day, I was told I would be teaching the shoulder track. Now, I am the weakest in my shoulders but I was feeling strangely confident. Was it because I was actually learning? Was it because the trainer would take me aside at every break and tell me that I was hitting it out of the park? Was it because I was having fun? Or was it because I could see the light at the end of the tunnel?

Went back to Baby Sister's. Home Chef made delicious fresh pasta with veal-wrapped asparagus. Daughter was spending the weekend with them and, wow, I was amazed to see how much she and The World's Easiest Baby (TM) had bonded. He was reaching for her, just lighting up when she even so much as looked his way. They had a big day, too. Baby Sister had a medical appointment downtown and then they went to St. Lawrence Market and to Home Chef's place of work, a media powerhouse. Daughter got to sit at the news desk table thingie of a breakfast morning show we watch. Got to stand in an entertainment news show's set. Toured a music station. Big day for her. Very exciting and new.

Drove back up to the gym in the morning with a good night's sleep behind me and the ability to have eaten a filling breakfast. I was mentally able to listen to the shoulder track in the car, going over my cues. I did that twice. I was that confident.

We did our tracks. Shoulders being the last teaching track, I was tired but was "on". Nailed the choreography (save one part near the end), the technique, connected wonderfully with a nice contrast in voice range, but the trainer thought I was too funny for the song. I need to mind the humour and be more gritty and serious through the song, saving the humour for transitions. The guy told me the day before to have more fun and I guess I took it too far.

More technique drills, getting and keeping new participants, and on what is called "fitness magic" which is what happens when everything clicks, and then we presented one last time. And I was PERFECT! The body building champion bowed in front of me and an Attack instructor asked me to write down some of my funny cues for her. I was so honoured. "There's nothing more that I can tell you to do. Just keep physically pushing yourself," the trainer told me. "You were born to be a fitness rock star, Jay-Z."

Yes, that was the nickname I was given the minute I first walked into the studio on Friday. It was only because there was another Jen and not because, when you look at me, you think of a millionaire rapper married to Beyonce.

So I left there feeling awesome but sore. I made a great friend in Morticia. When she gets certified, I'm SO going to one of her classes. Maybe we can team teach. That would be a riot!

It's funny. When I was told who the master trainer was going to be for my weekend, about four other instructors at my gym pretty much grimaced. But maybe he was having a great day because I found him warm and helpful and encouraging. And I made him cry at the end when I thanked him for such a profound personal experience. "I'm a big bloke, Jay-Z, and you reduced me to rubble. You really do have the gift of connection. Kia Kaha."