So in my quest for rejuvenation, I have been hitting up the YMCA pretty hard this week. No more excuses. No more ‘I’m too tired’, ‘It’s too late’ or ‘Oh, M is looking particularly handsome tonight’… none of that!
Monday night I hit up some ‘Cardio Kickboxing’. Firmly planted right in the back of the room, which is kind of like the back of the bus or the back of the lecture hall. Ready for easy and quick escape and near the door.
Hoping to enter the class unnoticed, my plan went sour when the teacher started chatting me up before the class started. Well shit. I confessed my ‘back of the room’ plan and he just laughed at me and slapped me on the shoulder. “You’ll do fine,” he smiled.
I think about 10 minutes of the class was spent (stretched over the whole 45 minutes) was spent with me looking alternately confused and staring blankly at what the people around me were doing. There was a lot of sweating too. But it was a lot of fun.
Post-kickboxing class, I reflected on my lack of rhythm. Cardio dance cemented those thoughts. It turns out that Cardio Dance is a code name for ‘Zumba‘, which is something I have no business doing.
1) I have no rhythm
2) I have no kind of street edge at all and am not able to dance with attitude (or ‘tude’ as the teacher referred to it)
3) As I discovered, I am the whitest person alive.
4) I actually am not sure how to ‘shake my booty’.
5) Going to a sexy dance class, with gyrating crotch moves, booty shakes and pelvic thrusts in my husband’s oldest and most unflattering teeshirt made me slightly self-conscious next to the other pretty young thangs in their YMCA finery.
I wasted a lot of time turning in the wrong directions, facing the wrong way and staring blankly. And laughing at myself (out-loud too. It just was that ridiculous).
Tonight was Spin Class.
Walking into the class with 2 other people who also had no idea what they were doing made me feel a little better. Our sweet and perky teacher, who looked like she was about 5, was so enthusiastic about everything I started to feel ok about it.
Now here is something I can handle. Just good old fashion sweat.
Sweat combined with pumping bass and pop-music. And a bike. So simple. No fancy footwork. Easy rhythms. I can handle this.
I am in exercise heaven. I might have finally found something to replace Bikram.
45 minutes later, I was soaking and my legs were shaking. *fist pump*
(and I remembered my vitamin AND flossed my teeth!) Health win as well!!!
* I’ll keep you posted on if I am able to walk tomorrow or not…