What? Kangoo Jump aka Suppajump
I had high expectations about the possibility of bouncing around on springs like a kangaroo. Even the prospect of falling flat on my face from a height did nothing to temper my excited anticipation. Bouncing around a la Zebedee or Tigger. It’s the dream come true. My nearest and dearest have even experienced me bouncing up and down on the spot when very excited or joyful. Yes at my age. This was THE class I had been waiting for.
Only once I had the ski-boot like contraptions attached to my feet did the fear of launching myself accidentally at a wall or worse, a person, occur to me. Carolina the instructor, told me to ‘remain in motion’ while I got used to my disrupted proprioception. After the initial 2 minutes of ungainly leggy action, I was as gleeful as a golden retriever with a tea towel. Boing. Boing. I was in my happy place!
When I asked the other ‘jumpers’ how long they had been doing the class, one very enthusiastic Scotswoman promptly said ‘a year!’ with the world’s most jet propelled star jump; another rather shyer girl, said 3 months. This has to go in a class’s favour. When there is a very high turnover of attendees, there is usually something wanting. This has certainly correlated with my experiences- when I have attended a class and everyone I’ve asked is a first timer like myself it is usually not something I found myself wanting to return to.
Then the lights were dramatically dimmed to club light levels, the thrumming bass-heavy dance music turned up and class began. At its crux it is essentially aerobics, but with added bounce. And to be honest this is what makes all the difference. If you don’t engage your core for the full hour then it is very likely you will find yourself horizontally humiliated. This is a much greater motivator I find, than wanting chiselled abs; equally if you slack off once the choreography starts, you risk an airborne collision with a total stranger. Capable of inducing both injury and much social awkwardness. So you just get on with it as best you can. Resulting in a thorough workout.
The last 15 minutes was devoted to abdominal exercises with a dash of stretching. With ski-boots and additional weight on your feet. I can still feel the burn 5 days later. I also adored the incredibly direct instructor, whose demeanour was nice without being over the top. There were no questions ‘We will do another set,’ she stated. This was answered by groans and the thud of defeat as ski-boots hit the wooden floor. Unperturbed, all this was met with ‘Yes, we go again.’ It was much the same with the choreography, she didn’t make the complicated steps easier for the more remedial and confused new comer, instead she just kept drilling us till we got it. Personally, I like this approach, being pushed means you get everything you can out of the hour long class. And if that doesn’t sound like fun, remember you’re on springs. Boing! Boing!
Every Tuesday 8.15 at Portobello Fitness club. £7. Worth the money. And the inevitable sweaty feet.