I’m 41.

And for the first time in 15 years, I’m doing group fitness classes with some ladies from my neighborhood.

It has been an adjustment.

The biggest adjustment, for me, has been our 25-year old fitness instructor.

Don’t get me wrong, I love him, in an older-aunt kind of way. He’s ambitious, sweet, quirky and naive, as only a kid a few years out of college can be. But since this “old dog” has been out of the group gym scene for like FOREVER, there are times that he says, does, or requires us to do stuff that makes me think WTH??

So this is my open letter to my 25 Year Old Group Fitness Instructor.

(And no, he’ll never read this, because he thinks I’m too old to be a blogger.)

Dear 25 Year Old Group Fitness Instructor,

1. It’s lucky I’m here. Between a job, husband, kids, dog, soccer and cross country practice, piano lessons, hair appointment and trying to eat, it’s a wonder that I’m even here. In fact, I had to use some stupid phrase like “me time” in order to justify it. So if I’m half-assing your routine, please know I could try harder, I just don’t want to. And if you ride me too hard, I’m likely to sit down and start reading Facebook on my smartphone for my “me time”.

2. Please stop doing this. While working out, the song “Crazy in Love” by Beyonce comes on and you say, “I love this song. It was my favorite in junior high.” First, I have to stop and do the math to figure out how much older I am than you and that makes me feel ancient. Plus, I think this song is still popular, so I realize I’m out of the loop too. Thanks for killing my exercise endorphins.

3. Quit lamenting about how tired you are. I realize it is early. I’m tired too. (Please read point #1.) And if truth be known, I’m jealous of your crazy cool social life that allows you to stay up late at night because you have no responsibilities (I mean kids.) And while I act interested when you tell me about your adventures, I really don’t care. I’m paying you to be my cheerleader and accountability. Lament on your own time. Right now, I need mild perky.

4. I’ve come to peace with my body. I realized a long time ago there are {insert body parts} that will never change unless I have an appointment with a plastic surgeon. So when we are doing sitting bridges and I’m half-assing it, it is less to do with “not trying hard enough” and more to do with “my give a crap is low, so why bother”.

5. I can’t remember what I had for lunch yesterday. There is no way I’m going to remember this complicated sequence you showed the class one time. So, you have a choice…either remind/show me again or expect me to do my own thing that will not remotely look like what you did. Also, I’ve noticed when I do this, it confuses other classmates and they wonder which sequence they should be doing. Yep, I like to stir the pot.

6. Wear the right clothes. You are fit. I can see this. It’s one of the reasons I show up for your class. But for the love of PETE, I don’t need to see everywhere on you. Wear the right underwear. Shoot wear some underwear. And if you don’t, be aware of how you are facing me. It’s way too early in the morning to see THAT much of you.

7. Jumping jacks. I had two kids. I can no longer do jumping jacks. It’s not that I don’t want to, believe me. But every time I try, I end up looking like I peed my pants. So, yes, unless you warn me ahead of time and I can wear Depends, I’m modifying. And please don’t call me out on it, otherwise I’ll give it to you straight and it will be embarrassing. (Not for me, but you. After having two kids, nothing really embarrasses me anymore.)

But finally, thank you. Thank you for encouraging every body type and fitness level to try harder. To correct my form. To give me PT stretches when stuff hurts (which is often when you are over 40). And thank you for just showing up week after week.

And then please throw this letter away, because really I’m just cranky you made me do both mountain climbers and plank up-downs today.

Love,

Kel