For the past couple of weeks, I have been meeting my New Year's goal of working out at the gym at least twice a week. I normally do my standard 30 minutes of cardio on an elliptical machine or treadmill, and then I try to do a 1 hour Body Pump class. If you aren't familiar with it, Body Pump is essentially a 1 hour weight lifting class. You get a weight bar with varying amount of weight on it to match your level of fitness. Basically, I can control the amount of pain that I put myself in and there is no fancy footwork
to make me look like an idiot show how uncoordinated I am.
Last week a friend of mine suggested we try a Body Sculpt class. I was a little hesitant because I like to stick with the devil I know. Trying a new class could either be REALLY good or REALLY bad. But, I decided to give it a shot. It was more or less the same as Body Pump, except you use dumbells and resistance bands instead of the big weight bar.
Having tried a new class and liked it, I thought, ooooh, maybe I should try something else new. I have really been interested in trying that Zumba (zoooom-ba) class. Have you heard of it? It's Latin Dance meets Aerobics (neither of which I am very good at). So Saturday morning, I gave it a shot. When I walked in the instructor said, "I hope you're not shy! You can't be shy in this class. If you get lost just march in place, jiggle your hips, and smile!"
I was a complete and total disaster.
Well, okay, if I give myself some credit, I did moderately well for the first half of class. But there were a lot of Samba and Mambo dance steps, along with a lot of Hootin' and Hollerin'. Literally, when she pulled out the combination with a "Woot, Holla!" shouted at various points, I thought I am not in Kansas any more! The second half of class, my brain was pumping all available oxygen left in my body to my extremities, so my thought processes and coordination suffered. I was flailing all around like a beached whale (again, literally.) I was shaking and popping and looking like a dang fool.
In my mind I was picturing myself on the stage at the So You Think You Can Dance auditions. Nigel looks up from his desk, takes off his glasses and inquires, "So, you've had No Formal Instruction? I would NEVER have guessed that!"
Was it fun? Yes. Was it hard? Totally. Will I go back? The jury is still out. Will I be busting out some sweet Latin dance moves at Blissdom? Definitely not.