I’ve had an on-again off-again affair with my gym this summer. I easily fell out of routine when the weather got hot and my husband’s work schedule switched over to nights. As a result I lost my gym buddy (him) and the will to get there on my own. Oh sure I was still going but instead of going 4 times per week, it was twice, then once. Then twice one week, and none the next.
Luckily for me a friend has joined up at my gym and is gradually peer pressuring me out of my lethargy.
“I used to love Zumba” I said, remembering all the fun I had when I used to go at my old gym, in a different town, in a different country, in a different era. “We should try that class.”
Little did I realize that muscle memory does not stick with you after 6 years, knowing your instructor is everything in Zumba, and moving twenty extra pounds around is not as easy as you’d think.
So there we are standing at the back, two uncoordinated white girls in their 30s trying to follow some fancy footwork, contort our torsos in less than subtle ways, and jump into this high energy work out in an under ventilated room in the gym with 20 other ladies and a few men who all seem to have it DOWN.
I know it won’t be like this forever. The more you know your instructor the better you get at recognizing the change cues, and the easier it becomes to predict the movements/songs/etc. But at the beginning stages you feel a little bit like a fish that just jumped out of its tank and is flopping around on the table in pseudo time to the music.
All in all I am very glad to have this new gym buddy and whether she realizes it or not though my snark, sarcasm, and whine, I enjoy meeting up Tuesday nights to flail wildly about and sweat out the stresses of the week.
My Texas Life 