“Ditch the workout, join the party.”

April 21 2013.  Monty has continued to go to exercise class with Kris and I promised to look into finding a class to join while here.  As everything, a perfect place is right around the corner - 2 minutes.  It is a big, beautiful dance studio whose slogan is "Real Classes for Real People".  Turns out, that is only technically true.  I selected Zumba - “Ditch the workout, join the party.”  The instructor spent the first 5 minutes explaining why his shoes didn't match his workout clothes. First clue. There were about 50 students in the class.  When asked any first-timers, I was the only one that raised my hand. Second clue.  One lady standing next to me said 'don't worry about not getting all the steps right off'  I told her my goal was to not pass out.  We chuckled.  Halfway through, the goal in my head changed to 'just don't vomit'. 

What was that?  I was pretty sure I had mistakeningly wondered into a Broadway dance audition.  I got home and found this excerpt in NYTimes article "I’ve hurt myself only once. Hoping to up my game, I took a class one Sunday morning at Alvin Ailey, where I had heard the crowd was younger, the choreography fiercer. Fifteen minutes later, my instructor, Ben Byrd, a puckish redhead in his 20s wearing a navy do-rag, was complimenting my speed walking in place during one song, which led me to think, I’m in.   But some five minutes later, my cloddishness about touching the floor with my hands while crouched in a frog stance caused him to yell at me, “Get lower!” I did, whereupon he smiled, grabbed one of his own buttocks diagnostically and gave me a sign of encouragement. I don’t know how this translates in the dance world, but in the nondance world it means: Ben is as concerned about my keister as I am.

The dancing ramped up in fiery intensity, which was thrilling. I overexerted, I overdid. At hour’s end, Ben led us through 15 additional minutes: 75 jumping jacks, 75 push-ups, and 75 situps, of which I completed one-fifth. The next day my body was a lake of fire. I got three massages in five days; I swore off the Z for almost a week."

 

My studio. My instructor. No party. Fortunately, I was blissfully ignorant going in and since I pre-paid the second class (smart marketing strategy) I will find a less intense class. I trust that exists. Still blissfully ignorant.