Zumba

While I'm on the topic of the Y, last Friday I decided to try out a Zumba class. In case, you haven't heard of it, "Zumba" is a wildly popular aerobic exercise class based on Latin-style music and dance moves. I love Latin dance, so I thought it might add some fun variety to my workouts. I started with the "Zumba Gold" class- which actually is geared toward the beginner (not a higher level- like it sounds) or "older active adults." (Is that a nice way of saying silver-haired women and post-pregnancy out-of-shapers?)

I showed up for the class, not quite knowing what to expect. The instructor was wearing black cargo capris embroidered with a "Zumba!!" logo, along with a black tank top covered by a red off-the-shoulder top. She spotted a couple of newbies, including me (I guess we were the ones standing uncertainly with an "I have no idea what I am doing here" look on our faces) and gave us the rundown. "The idea behind Zumba is that you are at a nightclub Latin dancing. You see someone across the room with some great moves and you mimic what they are doing." She put a red headband around her wild black curly hair and went to the front of the room. The lights went down to near-darkness and then she started the routines.

Can I just insert here that while I do not consider myself uncoordinated at all, group aerobic classes have a way of making me feel like a klutz? I took four years of ballroom dance classes when I was in college, including multiple Latin dance classes. But when they teach you ballroom, you and the person modeling the steps face the same direction. In aerobics, for some weird reason, the instructor has to face you and you try to follow what they are doing but mirror image. This produces strange contortions in my brain (not to mention my body). Nonetheless, I was determined to give this a valiant effort. I tried my best to follow the wild shimmies, head swirls and arm lassos of our enthusiastic instructor, but all I could think of when I saw my reflection in the dance studio mirror was: "If I saw someone with moves like this at a nightclub, I would run the other direction. Fast."

But the first song eventually ended and after enthusiastic applause from the more Zumba-ed "active older adults" in the room, we started on our next routine. "Let's Cha-cha!!" she enthusiastically cried. "Oh good," I thought, "Cha-Cha is one thing I DO know how to do already." Maybe all of my semesters of ballroom dance were good for something. Or maybe not. For those of you who aren't familiar with the Cha-Cha, you do a step back, then forward, then take three side steps on the "cha-cha-cha" part of the rhythm. But the tricky part of the Cha-Cha is that the first step starts on the second beat of the measure, not the first like you might expect. So in every single cha-cha class they DRILL into you: START ON BEAT 2!!!! But this was not a ballroom dance class and we started our step on Beat 1. So the entire time my body and mind were screaming at me, "BREAK BACK ON BEAT 2!!!!! Good grief, can't you hear the "Cha-cha-cha" in the music? Stop!! Stop!! You're doing it WRONG!!!!!" (Do I have control issues? Hmmm...)

The class went on. I guess I didn't realize I was such a Latin dance snob. I understand that Zumba is simply a way to get you up off your duff and burning calories in a way that is somewhat entertaining. Nevertheless, I was really internally annoyed that it seemed like the instructor figured that if you just threw enough hip shimmies, arm lassos and booty shakes into a routine that made it "Latin." Latin dance is an art form with complicated moves and precise technique, not just an excuse to wiggle your hips and toss your head around. I am used to Latin dancing in silver high-heeled T-straps with sparkly rhinestones. Trying to "work it" wearing tennis shoes was like trying to be graceful with bricks on your feet. Latin dance snobs of the world unite!!! Get out your sparkly silver Latin sandals and bust a move!!! (Do I have control issues--- or just issues in general?)

I guess I figured out that Zumba wasn't precise enough for my overly uptight brain and not free enough for me to just do what I wanted. No offense to anyone who likes Zumba. Maybe I would have liked it better if I hadn't felt so uncoordinated or had to look at myself in the mirror... Maybe I would like it better with silver sparkly high-heeled sandals. Maybe I'll stick to Pilates....

A Workout... and then another workout

Today, after a brief respite for Adelyn's runny nose, I went back to the YMCA to work out. Having deposited Jackson and Addy in childwatch, I dumped my stuff in a locker, attached my snazzy new blue padlock and went off to work out.

I have a paranoia of forgetting the combination on my lock so I bought a special padlock when I joined the Y that allows you to set your own combination. So I set it to a short code I would easily remember. Beyond that, it was a spiffy blue color. I say was because the spiffy blue lock is no more.

I had allowed extra time at the end of my workout to shower and get ready before I had to get the kids from childwatch. As I started turning the wheel to enter the combination, the lock didn't feel right. The wheel wasn't turning very easily and was sticking a little bit. I entered the combination and pulled, but the lock didn't budge. I gave it another try but no go. I spent about 15 minutes fiddling with my lock KNOWING that I did not forget the combination because I bought a special lock specifically so I could enter my own combination that I wouldn't forget. But no matter how many times I entered the combination, it didn't budge. The girl next to me offered her help, being somewhat good with locks. But she had never seen a lock like mine.

Finally we got someone from the front desk to bring a lock cutter. But it was an old rusty lock cutter and even when we had three people applying pressure we still couldn't get it to cut. They finally found another lock cutter that was newer and after getting two people to apply all their might for about 5 minutes we finally cut through it. But then the door to the locker wouldn't open. We had tried pushing against the locker door for leverage and now it was sealed shut. So I had to wait while the Y employee went to grab a screwdriver to pry it open. Finally, after a 40-minute ordeal I got my purse and keys... and not my shower. And my arms were sore even though today was a cardio day....