So, I’ve started taking a Zumba class. I believe I was tricked into it.
“You like dancing!”
Me: “Yes, but at weddings…in the dark…or on a cruise ship…where no one will see me again.”
“Well, you’ll love Zumba! Zumba is like dancing. But it’s an exercise class.”
Don’t get me wrong. I think exercising is important. I just really don’t enjoy it. I wish it was that thing you could do once and feel like, “Hey, I’ve accomplished exercise. That was nice. Now what?”
I wish you could buy exercise at the store.
I wish I could have someone else do the exercise for me—kind of like having a house cleaner for my dirty bathroom.
I think I’d be a millionaire if I could invent that “thing” where if you are watching other people exercise you’d feel the effects of their working out. Kind of like a Staples Easy Button. Watch this hockey game, get a full workout. I always feel better after I work out, it’s just the mental fortitude to actually get out there and “just do it.”
So. Zumba it is.
It’s like dancing. But, I’m wearing workout gear and I sweat. A lot. After the first class I realized I should probably give it one more chance. After all, the music is catchy, some unusual salsa steps and a lot of…well…jiggling.
But, there is hope. It’s taken me several classes and I have started to catch on. There is a fear if I miss one, I’ll never catch up again.
Look, if I’m going to have to exercise, I might as well be doing Zumba. Why? I hate to admit it, but it’s actually fun. This exercise is fun. (I actually used exercise and fun in the same sentence).
Next year I might even attempt a half-marathon.
But only if someone will do it for me.