Gym Suedoise à Paris

Gym Suédoise is equal parts amazing and hilarious, a one-hour workout with a jazzercise cheese-factor of 10 out of 10. When two of my copines told me that they did it three times a week, I was like, "WHOA - anyone who works a full time job in Paris and still manages to get to the gym that often has GOT to have found something worthwhile."

And so, two Saturdays ago, I jumped on the Gym Suédoise train.

I can now tell you that it is just about the most organized association I have ever encountered - I mean, look at their website. Classes happen all over the city, at all hours of the day and they can tell you who will be the teacher, who will be the host or hostess, and all of the particularities of any given class (bring shoes that are only for the gym, try to get there early because the class fills up, showers are/are not available etc etc.) 

According to the website, Gym Suédoise movements were elaborated and validated by kinesiologists to be kind to backs and knees - which is perfect for moi and my sad herniated disc issue.

So far, I've been to three classes (one in the 11th, one in the 4th and one in the 20th) and this is what I'm loving about the gym:

1. The website organization rocks my world. It's always updated and tells you if classes are canceled. There's nothing worse than getting the motivation to get your bootay to class, only to learn that it has been annulé.

2. The class plan is unlimited - I paid 120 Euros for access to all classes for four months. Sweet.

3. The schedule - I don't have to commit to one class at one time every week. I can jump around, try different classes, work it around my schedule and not the other way around. If I miss a class at 6pm, there is another one at 7pm, and 8pm and 9pm. If I can't make it near work, then I can go near my house. Ultimate flexibility.

4. I can go looking like hell and it's okay, because pretty much everyone else looks like hell or a version of hell, themselves. I'm talking bed head on weekends, no makeup, old gym clothes, underwear lines - the works. There's no lululemon up in Gym Suédoise. Those folks keep it real.

5. The music. Who doesn't love to jump around to the latest and greatest hits? Sometimes you get a little Queen, sometimes some Frenchie tunes, sometimes it's Bob Marley - chances are you'll know the words and have to remind yourself not to sing along at the top of your lungs. 

6. Getting my heart rate up, feeling sore muscles, understanding that sweatbands can actually be useful, and walking out of class feeling like I've accomplished something - even if it's the only thing I do that day.

I'm already convinced that my copines were right. I haven't gotten to three times a week yet, but on verra, on verra...

Crazy American

I took a look at the scale last week and it was NOT GOOD. Like Oh-dear-god-how-did-that-happen NOT GOOD.

Was it an apero en trop? A bit too many peanut M&Ms from the work vending machine? Are my healthy muffins not really healthy? dude.

I went back to Mireille Guiliano's advice and decided to "faire attention" to what I was eating (easier said than done when your colleague offers you an almond financier! - and then I decided that I needed to put a little American fire under my derrière and actually exercise. At 10:30 on Saturday morning I was up and at 'em, gulped down my magic sève de bouleau, put on some stretchy pants and power-walked to my neighborhood park.  

The park was buzzing with parents, children, ping-pong players and the standard homeless guys sipping their mid-morning beers. Then there was me - the crazy American, doing laps, stopping at the one bird-poop free park bench for push-ups and squats, jammin' to my hip hop mix circa 2003. Don't worry, I wore sunglasses and kept my head down.

I could hardly get up (or down) the stairs of our apartment building on Sunday - my thighs hadn't made any effort besides my daily Velib ride to work in months, and I could feel the burn BIG TIME. I *may* have taken a Doliprane to ease the pain. Despite the crippling effects of my park session, it did feel good to exercise and to feel my muscles again. I wish I could just be 100% française and therefore, immune to calories and the salle de sport, but alas, I am American, rien à faire. 

I could hardly bike to work today, but that just means it's working right?

Pilates Can You Save Me?

I can hardly take it anymore.  I've been trying very hard to follow my doctor's advice to ne rien faire - to do nothing- for quite some time now, in hopes that my herniated disc will chill the explicative out.

I don't do yoga. 

I don't go to dance.

I don't run.

I don't stretch.

I don't exercise.

In order to combat total depression, I...

...ride by bike with my back brace on and pretend like I'm getting exercise.

Yesterday, (after trying on an outfit in the horrible lighting that is the H&M dressing room and noticing that cellulite was taking over my life), I decided to do something.  So I busted out my handy Iphone and Googled "pilates workout". Since I'm not allowed to do yoga (forward bends are about the worst thing ever for my back, says Doctor), I figured that Pilates, which focuses on core strength (aka: back support!) would be a great, low impact, solution.

I found Erin Huggins and I think I may have a girl crush on her. I followed a few of her Youtube videos which were super easy to do in my minuscule living room, and it felt like I was in a class, but I didn't have to be on time or run home from work to change before getting there.  It's a win-win in my book.  

Here is the first video I tried:

Hopefully I've found the one thing that I can do while my back heals...we shall see.  Anyone else have experience with Pilates?  I have friends in Paris who teach Pilates, but I've mainly been a yoga person through the years. Would love any feedback on Erin's video!

Femme de Fer à la Piscine

My Parisian Pool Adventures are going well - I've already been four times and stopped by Go Sport for a super-authentic one-piece Speedo bathing suit! (I was feeling a little nulle with my sports bra and bikini bottoms). I can't help but feel like I'm in training for Ironman, what will all the power walking, swimming and Velib biking I've been doing around town...

On Wednesday I swam for 35 minutes and then biked all the way home ... in the rain.  By the time I got to the four flights of stairs in my building my legs were on FIRE. I'm not sure if this means that I worked hard or that I am incredibly out of shape. Let's be honest, probably the latter.

Friday I went to la piscine again and then walked around town until things started to look blurry and I thought I was going to fall over. I stopped into Wanna Juice and got some Cocolocomango-arama smoothie thingy to get my blood sugar back up, then some water to hydrate. Then, because I was obviously losing my mind, I decided to bike home again.

When I got to our front door, Copain took one look at me and said - oh la la! Qu'est-ce qui t'arrive?!


I'm pretty sure I'm going to get in great shape this way (especially with the current Parisian heat and humidity levels) - I'll just sweat until the cows come home (not without intense swamp ass bien sur). I'm also going to start calling myself Femme de Fer.  Woman of Iron. carrement.

The Power Walk

Power walking is an American phenomenon if I'm not mistaken. Grannies power walk through the malls in their bright white sneakers, moms power walk through neighborhoods in pairs, even my own Moomala power walked up and down the main drag in our SUV-filled community, crossing and uncrossing her arms for toning and cardio purposes. I admit it - I've even done some power walking myself.

I obviously walk a lot more here in Paris since A. I don't have a car  B. I hate taking the metro home from work and C. I don't walk to die on a Velib.  I guess I just consider it normal now - it's my preferred method of locomotion.  Maybe that's why I go through shoes like it's my job...

In any case, maybe seven years ago my Dad's comment  last week wouldn't have struck me as strange, but today, 7 years deep in my French life, it was so...American of him.

I was walking home from work and decided to give my Dad a call (I use walking time to catch up with my peeps).
 
What are you doing?, he said.

Walking home - I just left work.

How far is the walk?

I don't know - about 1.5 miles? 


Wow, that's great exercise - I bet it helps you keep your weight down! 


Now, please take that whole weight comment with a grain of salt - my Dad used to eat an apple as his daily meal and run miles and miles per week (obviously crashing at some point during the day from lack of FOOD). Now in his late 50's - almost 60! - he is obsessed with abstaining from carbs and likes to hike the mountains behind our house a few times a week.  Just weeks after back surgery he walked 7 miles - for fun or...whatever.

I guess so, I said.  But really, it's just because I like walking.

It didn't strike me as bizarre until a few days later when I thought about how a Frenchie would never have responded in that way.  I guess exercise culture has finally hit France - people run in the parks and have gym memberships, but it's just so much more toned down than the LA Fitness, Spectrum- crazed California I come from.

Today, having promised Copain a poulet-coco dinner, I power walked home - and I guess I did raise my heart rate a bit. But really, I just enjoyed the fresh air and evening sun as it warmed the Place des Vosges and glinted off the golden statue at the top of Bastille...

Non Non Blondette

After 8 months of Parisian living I finally got my act together and got a gym membership and yes, I would like a medal and/or a cookie for my efforts.

Thankfully, instead of paying the 800+ Euro annual fee, I got a super duper amazing discount through my work.  phew. compte bancaire sauvé.

The first day I headed over there with the Copain was a Sunday - very chill - jumped on an elliptical - lasted 15 minutes - thought I was going to die - could barely walk for about four days.  The second time we went it was a Tuesday...

Not. So. Chill - I should have known...

The entire working population of Paris goes to the gym between the hours of 6pm and 10pm leaving you running/wrestling for ANY cardio machine. It makes you wonder why the eff you went to the gym in the first place when you could run ANYWHERE for FREE in Paris.  (the answer to that question is that you decided it was more important to wait 30 minutes to run on a machine than to risk running through Parisian dog poo and French loogies only to be harassed by your local corner homeless dude on the way home).

Hence our decision to try out a group class instead of braving the cardio machines the following Tuesday.

Copain signed up for the crazy ridiculous and très difficile RPM biking class while I went for the zen relaxation class "Body Balance".  I should have known better having tried these yoga- thai chi -pilates combo classes for dummies before, but it was either that or thoroughly injuring/killing myself on a bike for an hour so Body Balance it was.

I somehow managed to get a spot in the back, shoved in a corner by the molding over
Emergency Exit door. Great for my health.  Our blond (with dark roots) instructer began with what she calls a "Thai chi -inspired" warm-up followed by a "Yoga-inspired" stretching section.  ooh goody. Her musical accompaniment: lyrical versions of Jay-Z's hit "New York". I cannot tell a lie my friends - this ish is the TRUTH.

Beyond the "balls of light" we had to swish from right to left and the "crocodile pose" that I am convinced she invented and try to pawn off as yoga, I got to listen to Blondette sing along - Neeew Yooooork...(mumble mumble because I don't know the words in English) Un, deux, et trois - YES! YES! Saying YES in English instead of French so obviously made her feel super cool - it was her trademark call out during the ENTIRE hour of class.

It pretty much brought on suicidal thoughts that I had to supress while I swished balls of shining light, à droite, à gauche, à droite, à gauche...YES.

Get Fit Fast with the Frenchies

Get Fit Fast with the Frenchies - Parisian Pound-Dropping Master Plan


So simple with guaranteed results!

Our motto - it pays to run late!


Step 1: Set alarm for 7am.

Step 2: Snooze until 7:45am

Step 3: Check Facebook and emails on your Iphone until 8am.

Step 4: Get out of bed.

Step 5: Make coffee and read blogs while drinking coffee.

Step 6: Look at clock.  (??!!!!"'"'(&"à'ç!&"ç'&!!!)

Step 7: takeashower, doyourhairandmakeup, getdressed, grabyourstuff, runoutthedoor - wait - didyoulockthedoor??!!! runbackupstairstocheckthedoor!! runtothemetro, swweeeaaaaat ALOT. getoffthemetroandruntothenextmetro, sweeaaaaaat A LOT MORE. getoffthemetroandruntoyouroffice, arriveattheoffice, sayhellotoeveryone, wipeoffyoursweatmustache, breathbreathbreath, sweatalot, wipeoffthesweatandairoutyourpits, openthewindow, sitatyourdesk, sweatsomemore. Go get more coffee in the staff corner. Start your day.

Step 8: Watch the pounds disappear....VOILA!! The new way to drop those unwanted pounds fast! Start running late today!!