Intro to Group Exercise

My experience with working out has always been one big war against time and boredom. When you watch movies in which characters go through this huge weight-loss transformation, it's usually a tough, quick montage to the beat of some fantastic 80s hit. This was not the case for me (except for it being incredibly tough and to the beat of several 80s hits). It's also not like you see on weight-loss "reality" tv shows, either, with all the cathardic breakdowns and insanely, overstrenuous workout regimens. If I am going to reduce my work out experience to a cheezed out tune, it would be "My Way" (not from the 80s, but I couldn't think of anything better and I kept getting 'Eternal Flame' stuck in my head). I didn't freak out (unless you count the pre-epiphany panic attack at the sink) and I didn't go crazy pushing myself all at once. With a very un-Livesay-like calmness I took this whole thing one day at a time (because when you start thinking about needing to lose 120 lbs, you have to take it one day at a time or you'll become a hopeless mess). **By the way, I know I'm writing this in the past tense, but please remember that I'm still very much battling on in the present**

It's sort of crazy how exercising regularly evolved from walks in the park and a borrowed "Biggest Loser Weight Loss Yoga" DVD to six days of running, yoga, piloxing, spinning, weight training, and, my personal favorite, Zumba. What I really mean is that this is all crazy (and new) for me. Usually about three weeks into a newfound zeal for diet and exercise I would stumble across a television show or pastry that would demand my immediate attention more than my current personal health binge. And in fact, there have been several times during the past 10 months where I've asked myself "I wonder when I'll stop caring again?" It's not a thought that I dwell on, but let me just say that no one is more surprised by my new-found love of aerobics more than I. I usually made fun of people who constantly updated their Facebook status about a "good run" they just went on for billionth time. Snooze-fest.

That said, getting a gym membership in the same town where I went to high school as a fat girl was not an easy decision. Also, to add insult to injury, said gym happens to be smack dab in between a donut shop and a Rita's Italian Water Ice stand. So getting a membership there would mean facing two of my greatest enemies on a regular basis: reminders of high school and refined carbohydrates. I was sorely tempted to invest nearly $1,000 on a gym membership to a swanky gym far, far away from the place where my right butt cheek was groped in front of my entire second period Spanish class; however, I couldn't afford to buy a car for $1,000 let alone the luxury of an overpriced gym membership. So with the most colossal of chips on my shoulder, I grudgingly signed on to a $10-a-month Jersey Fitness membership with very few expectations.

I have no idea when I started taking the classes, but I have a sneaking suspicion that it must have involved me using the same elliptical machine, reading the same People magazine, and listening to the same Gym Mix on my ipod over and over and over and over again. That kind of monotony in conjunction with sweat and heavy breathing could make anyone go nuts. All those classes of Pilates, Spin, and Yoga, or the "Exercises that Only Skinny People Do", were starting to look strangely appealing. And then the gym started offering Zumba and it was all over for me.

Minor confession: I freaking love to dance. It is a passion that I've safely harbored for years. I actually avoided school dances like the plague. I never went to homecoming, I went to the beach instead of junior prom, and a movie instead of senior prom (Did I mention I hated my middle/high school experience?) All that repressed dance energy has since exploded into a collection of crazy, cheesetastic moves that pop up at various church functions and wedding receptions (to the chagrin of conservative Baptist extended family members). When I started hearing all this fuss about Zumba, I asked a couple of people what they knew about the class at Jersey Fitness. The consensus was this, "It's fun, but uh...Chrissy's insane. She yells at you and she's really, really fast, so I'm warning you that you might not like it. Or her". So in the spirit of not letting fear make my decisions, I decided to give it a shot anyway, despite the mixed review.

Ah, my first Zumba class. I quite strategically planted myself in the back row with other equally uncomfortable and mildly awkward-looking classmates (little did I know that Chrissy often likes to switch directions so that every row gets to be the front row). We all gave each other the "I-have-no-idea-what-the-heck-to-expect-but-if-this-gets-really-bad-I'm-totally-going-to-make-a-mad-dash-towards-the-door-even-if-that-means-cha-cha-cha-ing-over-you-to-get-there-understand?" look. And then in saunters this petite blonde decked out in baggy pants, a hoodie, and a doo-rag over her hair. She messes around with an ipod and some speakers but makes a brief introduction. "Hi, I'm Chrissy. If this is your first time here, don't be nervous. No one's lookin' around at you, we're all here to just have fun. So just have a good time. Also, don't worry if you can't keep up with me, just do what you can. Alright?" I gave nervous, good-hearted raised eyebrows at my neighbors and waited for it all to begin.

That first class is a total blur to me now. Not because I don't remember it, but because I spent half the class stumbling over my own steps, giggling awkwardly like an idiot, and I spent the other half gawking (in the non-creepiest of ways) at Chrissy's dancing. It wasn't even dancing, really, it was more like the bottom half of her body was flying and bouncing from one end of the platform to the other like her rear end was possessed by the devil. I was stunned and in my defense, when you see someone walk into a class decked out in sweats like they just woke up for class, you do not expect that kind of energy. I vaguely remember only being able to do one step to about seven of hers but not for lack of trying. My fellow Big Girls know that when you're dancing, different parts of your rear end and belly will move to different beats and often not in harmony with one another. I wasn't the only struggling, either. Looking around, everyone was drenched in sweat and panting amidst Chrissy's shouting "HOW WE DOING?! ALRIGHT?!"

Here let me reflect on what I was told to expect from Zumba class, what with my instructor being super fast and yelling at you all the time. First, she is fast. That is an indisputable fact. I have been going to her classes for nine months now and I still shake my head in disbelief at her energy. But all that crazy high energy is infectious, too. When I attend Chrissy's classes, I cannot help but try to keep up with her no matter how frustrating and impossible it can be (and it is). When I'm in Zumba class, I'm equal parts frustration and motivation. I'm super pissed off with myself for becoming so unhealthy that it's affecting my dance moves. I want to keep up with Chrissy. All that self-anger evolves into sheer determination to do whatever I need to do in order to keep up. Even if that means going to the gym six days a week and avoiding eye contact with half the population of the weight room.

 Secondly, yes she yells, or as I like to call it, "motivation at a high volume". She yells, she sings along with the songs, she refuses to let you look miserable in her class, and she occasionally chuckles at your valiant efforts to dirty dance. And none of this comes from a mean place;  it comes from a lady who clearly loves her job and loves the community of people she gets to work with and work out with. I could never ever write enough words (in a non-creepy way) to express my gratitude to Chrissy for all of her encouragement and energy each week. She really is just the nicest lady and she's not the only one. Pretty much everyone that works at Jersey Fitness or is a regular at Jersey Fitness is super friendly, encouraging, and very patient (I ask questions). There's a familiar diner feel to the place now because I'll walk in and have about five or six different people say hi and ask me how my 5K training's going...

After my first 3-hour Zumba-thon with Stacy and Nealy

And so began my experiences with group exercise classes with other equally awesome and talented instructors that I shall document about on here another time. But that first Zumba is where I became an official group class convert and to this day, nine months later, I will rearrange my social schedule so as to not miss a Friday night Zumba class. I cannot say the same for the 5AM Spin classes, though...