Anybody that knows me understands my life is essentially a tug-of-war between riding my bicycle and drinking beer.

Lately beer has been winning. With this in mind, I started another episode of “Operation Greek God.” This is a program where I modify my diet (basically cutting out hops) and increase my exercise frequency. I do this until I get the chiseled physique of Adonis or lose 5 pounds, whichever comes first. To increase my physical activity, I recently decided to take a class at Core Centric (in the interest of full disclosure, I teach a cycling class at Core Centric and am very biased). As for which class to take it, really didn’t matter. I know my colleagues are awesome, so any class would end up being a good one. My real concern was when the class was offered. I found one, named Body Back that fit perfectly into my schedule. Hmm, a full body workout with an emphasis on the back? Having a strong back is essential for cycling, so this would be ideal.

I arrived at the studio just before it began and got a quizzical look from the staff. Apparently, Body Back is a class for new mothers so they can recover their fitness and figure after the rigors of childbirth. I laughed and said I needed to take a Lamaze class first then spun on my heel to leave, but like all good fitness coaches, they broke down my obstacles to training. They pointed out that I had the time for it, I was already dressed in my leotards and leg warmers and postpartum or not, it would do me some good. So with a shrug I said OK and waited for the other students to arrive.

As the new moms walked in, they saw me and hesitated for a tick. A look passed over their faces, saying “Am I in the right class?” Fortunately for me these women were very nice and made me feel welcome. As for the babies, their colorful jumpers didn’t fool me. I could see they were sizing me up. I don’t know exactly how old they were because all kids look the same to me until they are around 20, but they were carried in a gizmo that looked like a picnic basket, so they must have been pretty young.

The class itself is a smart idea. Mothers don’t need to worry about childcare, and the babies have fun while Mom gets a good workout. Yet the real genius is the fact that as each mother’s child grows, the workouts become harder, and the more fit the mom becomes. In fact, before she knows it, she’ll be doing squats and calf raises with a 30-year-old on her hip.

For me, however, it was not without its weirdness. Since the child itself is an integral part of the workout, I needed to come up with some progeny pronto. I decided on a bouncing baby medicine ball — my mother always wanted a doctor in the family.  He looked like a volleyball and weighed a healthy 8 pounds. I named him Wilson.

The session was also unusual in the sense that it was the first time I’ve ever had a workout where breast feeding was involved. I guess it makes sense though; even babies need to carbo-load before training. On the good side, I got some insight into my parenting skills. I kept dropping Wilson, which I’ve been told is not good for newborns, and I tended to sit on him during breaks. On the bad side, there was a lot of crying, all of it from me. Another unusual aspect of this workout was spotting. Spotting at the gym means helping someone get through a particularly strenuous exercise, but when babies are involved, it’s an entirely different thing.

After a class full of planks, push-ups and bridges, we ended with the challenging baby shot put. OK, I am kidding about the last one, but it was just as well because I was knackered. After cooling off, I put my baby in the corner (with apologies to Patrick Swazye) and was surprised to see the other mothers taking their children home. It is so much easier just to keep them at the gym.

— Chris Austin is the circulation manager at The Beachcomber, a cyclist and a writer.