If you know me, you’re probably aware that Francesca & Sports don’t necessarily go together.

And even if you don’t know me, you can probably tell from a mile off that back in the day, I was the one who skulked at the sidelines of the lacrosse pitch or the netball court or the rounders field while my sportier counterparts made strides. Let me put it this way: Even though I did make the house swimming team (bless you, LAC) and even though I can catch a ball with fair accuracy, sport just isn’t my thing.

I tried to explain this to the Strollercize trainer. Really I did. But she was having none of it. “Honey, this class is about being a fit mom. It has nothing to do with sporty/not sporty.”

Strollercize? Yes, indeed! It’s an outdoor exercise class for Manhattan’s Type A / uber-energetic mommies who feel who feel the need to do back-breaking sit-ups and plant their “tushies” on ice-o-cold stone steps to tone away their baby rolls. And there’s also running. Lots. And galloping and skipping. And all the while we’re pushing the strollers. Soothing for babies, as you can imagine. In fact, August never smiles and sleeps as well as when I’m lugging my beastly body up a hill to the marching orders of trainer, Lizzie.

“Mom on a mission; march!” “Enemy Territory; get down low! “U-turn to the left and wheel back” Grunt…grunt…grunt…

So the fact that I make it out to these boot camps at all is itself impressive and while that may separate me from the other really lazy Manhattan mommies who don’t do any exercise at all, it doesn’t change the fact that I’m forever the laggard at the tail end of the line as we skip, swish and sway our booties through Central Park, lumbering to keep up with the others who are svelte runners and more.

As I said, Francesca & Sports…

Some things never change.

Tags: Exercise, Health