Turns out Pilates Strong isn’t a class, it’s a character‑building intervention disguised as exercise. Trying a new Pilates class sounded harmless enough — until I discovered that “Strong” wasn’t a suggestion, it was a warning label. What I thought would be a gentle upgrade turned into an unexpected boot camp, complete with new equipment clearly designed by someone who enjoys watching adults question their life choices. The run had to be paused for a few weeks so my body could adapt, and by “adapt” I mean survive. Queue the eucalyptus‑soaked flannel at the end of class, just to check you’re still breathing.
Pilates Strong: The Ambush
I thought I enrolled in Pilates.
I got Pilates Strong.
There is a difference, and my body discovered it immediately.
The instructors casually mentioned the equipment is new, which apparently means everything is harder, heavier, and calibrated for superheroes. My very first class was the weight‑bearing one — the hardest of the lot. I staggered out of it like I’d just survived a natural disaster.
A quick check of my bookings:
How many of these have I accidentally signed up for
and
how fast can I swap them out.
My head had originally said, “Let’s do five classes a week plus a run.”
My body replied, “Do you remember how old you are? Let’s stick to four classes and attempt the run after this ‘experience’ is over.”
Wise body.
The Bike (and Why I’m Not Rowing)
I made a firm decision early on:
No rowing machine.
My arms took one look at it and said absolutely not.
So I chose the bike.
A bike I could only half‑see because I’d taken off my glasses.
A bike I had never been introduced to.
A bike that, as it turns out, had been left on “Amazon Warrior” tension by the previous rider.
I discovered how to adjust the tension in my second‑to‑last class.
This explains a lot.
The Courtesy Pose Makes a Cameo
There were awkward new poses.
There were balancing challenges.
There were a few familiar moves thrown in like a peace offering.
And yes — the courtesy pose made an appearance, which is always a sign that things are getting serious.
Meanwhile, my brain was still trying to work out what on earth we were doing.
What the heck are we now? How do I do that? Are those people on the TV screen AI?
While my brain was buffering, my body was quietly rejoicing at every tiny rest.
Countdown Culture
Every class followed the same pattern:
• “Only 30 seconds left.”
• “Now we do it on the other side.”
• “Let’s finish with a two‑minute plank.”
Time flies when you’re suffering.
It’s more PT‑style than my usual reformer Pilates — less personal, more “everyone together, no escape.” But I’ll admit, once the shock wore off, I started to enjoy the classes that mixed in the cardio and weights.
The Eucalyptus Flannel
At the end of each class, they hand you a cold eucalyptus‑scented flannel.
This is not a luxury.
This is a welcome survival tool.
It’s their way of saying, “We know you’re questioning your life choices, but at least you can still breathe.”
The Elephant Run Attempt
Boot camp over, it was time for the actual Elephant Run check‑in.
My version of a run is more tortoise than gazelle, but I managed 30 minutes.
Surprisingly.
And yes, I felt stronger — there was definitely some burn happening.
Would I Do It Again
Reformer Pilates is still my home base — two years in, I know what I’m doing and I like the pure Pilates classes.
Pilates Strong is… a step up.
A step sideways.
A step into someone else’s fitness personality.
The cost is about the same as my usual Pilates, but the weekly price is outside my budget. If I had the money, I’d add one weights class and one cardio class into my routine and keep my reformer sessions. For now, I’ll watch for specials and use up my reformer passes.
Final Verdict
• I survived.
• I’m stronger.
• I can still jog for 30 minutes.
• People my age were struggling too, which is comforting.
• My sister gets her photos — nothing glamorous, don’t worry.
• Tom Cruise’s sprint remains unthreatened.
• This is the Elephant Run, after all.
And at the end of every class, while my brain was still trying to work out what the heck are we now and how do I do that, and whether the people on the TV were AI or just very enthusiastic humans, my body was quietly celebrating the tiny rests and the eucalyptus‑soaked flannel that proved I could still breathe.
Boot camp complete.
Reformer reclaimed.
The tortoise jog lives on.
You are the star of your own story — may the force stay with you 🐘
