A few weeks ago I saw the schedule of classes for the YMCA. A class that caught my eye was teaching hula hooping. I know, I know…. a hula hoop class. Go figure. I can do that at home.
Yesterday I read a story in the Crab Creek Review about a girl who “hooped” all the time. Like, all the time. A good reminder that I don’t want to get extreme, about anything. Ten minutes a day would be good for me.
This afternoon I went to get my daughter’s hula hoop out of the garage. She has two big hula hoops made from black PVC pipe and decorated with fun festive colored tape. These hula hoops are bigger in circumference making them easier to use because they take longer to circumnavigate one’s waist so less hip movement is needed.
This will be easy, I thought. It’s been a few years since I’ve hooped and I forgot. I forgot how much effort it takes. I forgot how much it engages my core muscles. I simply forgot that people who hoop just make it look easy. But it isn’t.
My daughter counted while I hooped. After each fall of the hoop she announced my time. “Eight seconds, Mommy.” “Twelve seconds, Mommy.” I got up to eighteen seconds. I don’t say that with an ounce of pride. I am, however, quite humbled. I saw the hula hooper as I was driving through Fairhaven the other day. Now she makes it look effortless.
Maybe I will sign up for that class afterall.