The Geriatric Crew and a Zumba Class; I like to run, I always have since I was in my teens. Since then I have stuck with running as my preferred sport. I’m good at it and enjoy the freedom it brings to me. Ok I am no Paula Radcliffe but the fact is it still beats sitting on the sofa consuming a big bar of Cadburys.
However a few days ago my friend dragged me to a Zumba class. As I approached the building, wearing my running leggings/vest top, I felt very very conscious and completely out of my comfort zone. But I didn’t stop and run for the hills as I think doing things out of your comfort zone is healthy and I like an adventure. So I proceeded into the unknown.
Once inside the studio, I took my place at the back of the room, far away from the instructors, and more importantly, the enormous mirrors that completely covered the front wall.
The music started and everyone collectively moved; synchronised dance moves that everyone, but I somehow knew. I felt like I’d been dumped in the middle of a West End musical whereby everyone but me knew the intricately choreographed dance moves.
I tried to follow the instructor’s lead, but since I’d taken up residence at the very back of the room, I couldn’t see the instructor. I did, however, get a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I looked like my grandad trying to bust moves on the dance floor at a wedding.
Unable to see the instructor, I picked out a person who looked like she knew what she was doing and tried to follow her. My friend who had never done Zumba either, seemingly picked it up with no effort. Maybe she wasn’t as polished as the women who had clearly been doing Zumba since the day they’d learned how to walk, but she followed along and held her own. I, on the other hand, could not, for the life of me, make my body move even remotely like anyone else in the room. Except for the man in the back with me who was 75 years old if he was a day. I was doing almost as well as he was. Almost. Being shown up by a member of the geriatric crew does wonders for one’s self-esteem.
I stopped trying and stood there nervously laughing thinking to myself “I don’t get it! I have no idea what everyone is doing!”……..I felt like a total nerd. Why had I agreed to try this? And why was the music so blooming’ fast???
After about half an hour, I finally started picking up some of the moves. The only problem was, was that I was two steps behind everyone else. By the time I finally caught on to what they were doing, everyone else had moved ahead and was doing something else. As everyone moved to the left, I moved to the right. I crashed into the woman next to me. I apologised profusely and she was kind enough to say “it’s okay”. However I felt like I was in an episode of I Love Lucy. And I was Lucy.
Feeling some confidence return since I’d been able to make my feet move like everyone else’s (albeit a few moves late), I got cocky and decided to add arm movements. Up until this point, my arms had just hung like fat sausages at my sides. This is the point when I learned I have zero co-ordination. ZERO. CO-ORDINATION. I am physically unable to make my feet and my arms move with any semblance of agility, rhythm or style whatsoever. This reaffirmed to myself why I never dance unless I’ve consumed copious amounts of alcohol at which point I cease caring about how I look and just have fun. The next time I go to Zumba (isn’t that funny how I imply there will be a next time?), I’m going to drink first. Then I’ll just rock out to Shakira and Pitbull without a care in the world.
Needless to say I think I will stick to running….one foot in front of the other doesn’t take a lot of concentration or style.
As always, thanks for reading, B x