Zumba
I’m not one for exercise classes, I never have been. I’m not up for the whole “GO GO GO” rallying together thing, when I work out I’m a loner.
At the gym I was a headphone in, head down kinda girl, only breaking free for a gossip in the Jacuzzi. I was crap at doubles when I played tennis, and I make a shocking running partner because all I want to do run down the road singing Britney and Cheryl Cole to myself.
But recently my motivation to exercise has been waning. I get up thinking RIGHT I REALLY want to go for a run today, I want to feel the wind in my hair and the rain on my face. I get psyched up in the morning, but by the time I’m back from the school run I think “I’ll just do this…” and suddenly it’s time to close my study door and go and get the kids.
I promised myself I’d shred first thing in the mornings, but I never wake up before the kids and if you’ve ever tried doing crunches with a 17kg toddler on your chest, you’ll see why I’ve given up, and at the end of the day when the children are finally asleep I Just.Need.To.Sit.Down.
But I need to work out, I know I do. Not only is my bum spreading at an alarming rate, but I need the buzz, the time where my mind is focusing on something other than work, homework, and keeping my children alive, so what do I do?
After chatting to a friend we decided to look for a class, and it turns out Eleanor had just started going to Zumba which runs in the school hall every Tuesday evening, and we decided to join her. So Mr Aimee came home from work on time, and I kitted myself out ready to go.
We trotted in, introduced ourselves, filled out the forms, and whilst my co-ordination was a little off these days, I had a sneaky feeling that by the end of the first routine, once I would be in the zone, I would totally look like this.
After all, I’d totally done tap dancing between the ages of five and five and a half.
Unfortunately that wasn’t the case. First of all, who knew my bottom could swing from side to side quite so much? I mean, WHEN did that happen? Did I suddenly wake up one morning with the ability to knock innocent bystanders by with a flick of a hip?
Then there’s the music. We started off with Gangman style, which instantly put the pressure on for me to memorise the dance ready to show The Beast just how cool mummy could be, and then was followed by a lot of rather frantic cool stuff that I have a feeling is probably in the charts right now, but not the sort of thing that Radio 2 or Lincs FM plays while I’m in the car. In fact, I swear it’s faster than the actual footwork that I’m desperately trying to keep up with. Or maybe I had an ear infection or something which threw me off beat? I mean, everyone else in front of me in the sports hall seems to have GOT it, how do their hips move from side to side? And crunking? Is that what you call it these days CRUNKING? You know, this…
Is that even crunking? Whatever. The point is, while I had the image of the entire school faculty watching through the windows with a little snigger as I move my arms up and down pretending to be in Beyonce, all I could think was ZUMBA IS HARD.
Then around the third routine something happened – NO my stitch didn’t kick in until about routine number four, and I totally didn’t nearly black out in routine number five – my competitive nature started kicking in.
As I went left…and everyone went right…I felt it wash over me, as I tripped over my foot I stopped, I stood up straight and thrust my shoulders back, muttering to myself “Come on Horton, look lively” and I was ON IT.
Except I wasn’t, and as I wiggled my hips and stamped my trainer clad feet I began to wonder if there was a DVD I could order from Amazon, perhaps the teacher gave one-one catch up classes?
Suddenly, an empty water bottle, red faced hour later, it was over. We hobbled out to our cars, and drove home where I quickly consumed pizza and a large glass of red wine to counteract any good the exercise could possibly have done.
Now I’m building up to next week, and I’m totally not Googling step-by-step guides in preparation.
BRING IT ON GIRLS.