“Get up on the box, and put the strap around your foot,” barks the instructor, imperiously. I do as I’m told, wobbling uncertainly as I try to maintain my balance atop the Reformer Pilates machine and the box that is elevating my body by another half metre or so. By the time my foot is in the strap, the situation feels perilous.
The next instruction comes: “push your foot out horizontally, then move it back in.” Doing so moves both the carriage and by extension the box I’m perched upon, and I gingerly shove my quivering leg out behind me, then gently, oh so gently, ease it back towards my body.
