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SEPTEMBER 8, 2010 8:09AM

It Looks Like Fun!

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I walked into the hall after paying my admission fee and signing a waiver which basically said that if I was crazy enough to volunteer for what was to come it was nobody’s fault but mine.  I was unconcerned, having already overcome my biggest health risk in putting on my gym pants with the cruel holding-power of a pair of Spanx, guaranteed not to spark in the event of inner thigh friction.   

The murmur of female voices echoed off the gymnasium walls as I found myself a space near the front, staking my claim with carefully placed water bottle and towel. Being a novice, I felt a little nervous and hoped that I wasn’t accidentally usurping a regular’s place but I knew I would need to see the instructor’s feet if I was to have any hope in following along.

Swigging from my water bottle to stem my excitement (I was about to join the world of Zumba® after all) I surveyed the crowd for friendly faces but I seemed to be the only person unaccompanied. Never mind.  I was confident that bonding would take place once the class got underway and everyone was sweating and samba-ing. 

Thank goodness, most of my fellow participants looked nothing like the Zumba® enthusiasts I had seen on the internet: gorgeous, with a carefree sense of cool, wearing tiny tops that exposed their toned midriffs and of course, young. I was relieved to see that at fifty, I was not the oldest person in the room.  All my classmates, mostly 35 plus,  weren’t bronzed and beautiful, and were too modest or lacked the muscle tone for a cropped top.  We smiled at each other, sharing camaraderie, aspiration, and a moment of female solidarity, solid being the appropriate word. 

And that was it—with a blast of Shakira, we were off.  The hour that followed was fast-paced cardiovascular fun to a Latin beat, punctuated by the peripheral view of our petite instructor, a pink-clad blur with super-human abs who danced the rest of us out of the room.  Mercifully, the gym had no mirrors, but I think I understand why she had a big smile on her face throughout. 

What we looked like, I don’t know, and I don’t think any of us cared.  Once we settled into the routines, we felt we were shimmying like pros and when she called for the move known as “The Beyonce,” the entire room shook with our enthusiasm.  (My enthusiasm was a little sore the next day.)  By the end of the class we were all convinced that we had found our inner hot Latina selves.

So tonight I’m going back for another Zumba® class in a different sports hall.  I’ll be going for a place at the front again—even if they’ve got mirrors!    


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fitness, women, fun

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Wonderful! Just deciding to go and exercise is stress enough, glad you found more like you than not. Sounds like a wonderful form of exercise and your writing about it was fun and clever!

By the way, as a former West Highland owner I loved seeing yours...they are a wonderful breed.
Thank you Buffy, for your kind words. As regards the West Highland Terrier, yes I agree with you. They are a wonderful breed though mine is barking out the window at something in a very annoying way at the moment. She is so stubborn! Overall though, she's a gem.
Oh Lord. Not fun. Cardio is not fun! I'm lucky enough to be naturally slight and yet at 43, I'm having to work at it harder than I've had in the past...still, I can't do cardio. I just walk walk walk walk to NPR's This American Life on the ipod or I call every single one of my friends hoping that one will keep me on the phone for an hour. But GOOD FOR YOU! That you have found something that you enjoy and keeps you fit. (Where are the pictures? A post like this demands pictures.)
Bell, I'm not sure the world is ready for those pictures! It does get harder and harder as the years roll by but I feel as fit and healthy as I ever did. Walking is supposed to be the BEST exercise there is.
I loved this line: "My enthusiasm was a little sore the next day." You go, girl!
Mark, let's hope someone out there is funding that research!
Cartouche--It's only just recovering!