Last January, the 20th to be exact, I upgraded my gym membership to take classes, attended my very first Zumba class, and later wrote the following Facebook status about it:
"A Note About Zumba:
-Imagine a wedding reception dance floor, on crack, that consists of a lot of girls from my high school graduating class. Who are now married. And like...moms..
-I spent 80% of the first class laughing hysterically in confusion...especially during moves that required shimmying, gyration, and booty pops
-I discovered that while my inner dance spirit was keeping up with the instructor, most parts of my body were like Montessori children moving at their own pace and often NOT in unison with one another
-Do not Zumba behind the girl who confesses to have eaten a Fiber One Brownie just prior to the class
-Do not underestimate the 50 year-old up front. She will drop it like it's hot and you will...well...hold onto it like a lukewarm cup of decaffeinated tea."
-Imagine a wedding reception dance floor, on crack, that consists of a lot of girls from my high school graduating class. Who are now married. And like...moms..
-I spent 80% of the first class laughing hysterically in confusion...especially during moves that required shimmying, gyration, and booty pops
-I discovered that while my inner dance spirit was keeping up with the instructor, most parts of my body were like Montessori children moving at their own pace and often NOT in unison with one another
-Do not Zumba behind the girl who confesses to have eaten a Fiber One Brownie just prior to the class
-Do not underestimate the 50 year-old up front. She will drop it like it's hot and you will...well...hold onto it like a lukewarm cup of decaffeinated tea."
I was strictly a Zumba girl until late April (which was kind of surprising to me to find out that I've been attending classes for only sevenish months). I guess it was some time immediately following my annual Good Friday trip to Philly, or more specifically, to Isgro's Bakery, I decided to up the ante on attending classes (mere coincidence). This meant actually looking at the gym class schedule as opposed to breezing by it on my way to the magazine stack. There were some classes on the schedule that I knew I'd probably never be able to take due to my work schedule; morning classes like Pilates, Circuit Training, and whatever the heck "Instructor's Choice" is (to this day I have no idea what 'Intstructor's Choice' means for someone like Chrissy. I have frightening mental pictures of her laughing maniacally as she makes everyone in the class do lunges and burpees to angry, heavy metal music). I vaguely remember seeing Pump & Run on the gym schedule back in January but, as I said before, if it didn't involve dancing, I didn't bother.
Since the last Pump & Run, working out has gone from being "something I try to fit into my week" to being as salient to my life as my vegetarianism. I don't say this lightly, either. I know perfectly well that if a stranger met me at Jersey Fitness right now, they'd probably assume that I was part of the "New Year Weight-Loss Resolution" crowd. I still don't look like my gym buddies, yet, but I know where I started and I know where I'm going. Enter: Pump & Run. One thing I love about my gym is that their names for classes are pretty straightforward; HIIT=High Intensity Interval Training; Cardio Sculpt=Cardio+Weight Training; Step=Stepping. Pump & Run is basically pumping iron and running. Except that whenever Chrissy is involved, a class is never "basically" anything, but intense from start to finish.
Our first meeting was informational. I took that literally and went to the gym in my Sunday clothes and ballet flats (it was probably the first and last time I've ever left Jersey Fitness without having my hair matted in sweat). It was kind of surreal, actually. I was in the same classroom, with the same classmates, same instructor...and yet we were all sitting around...not moving at light speed. Then Chrissy gave us the rundown about what to expect for the next eight Sunday mornings.
-Weigh-ins: It's funny, I can totally say "I lost 60 lbs" on Facebook for everyone to read and comment upon, but the thought of hopping onto a scale and having Chrissy view and then record that number is mildly terrifying. As you might have read in prior posts, I'm usually completely alone (and naked) when I'm weighing in at home. When I have to weigh in at the doctor's office, I sometimes spontaneously burst into tears. I'm hoping that my deep respect and admiration for Chrissy will outweigh (no pun intended) my anxieties regarding this portion of the Pump & Run. Frankly I'd rather not have her see me naked or crying. Like, ever.
-Running: For the first hour, we're running. Chrissy gave us different distances (2, 3, 4, 5 miles, etc.) to pick from. I'm super fortunate that my friend Betsy asked to partner up with me for the running portion. However, come Feb 10th we'll all be running five miles together.
-Pumping: I will be building up to lifting 70% of my body weight. Without getting into specifics, let's just say that my 70% weighs more than Chrissy and her abs put together. To be frank, I'm actually more intimidated by the pumping than the running. While running may not be my favorite form of cardio, it's something that I can understand and even occasionally enjoy. Lifting weights is difficult, it hurts, and it doesn't make sense when you look at the numbers on the scale. But my body needs to lift weights. Every time I catch a glimpse of my reflection when I'm punching, kicking, squatting, or popping in those floor-to-ceiling mirrors at the gym, it's like looking back at a human water bed that doesn't. stop. rippling. Translation: Gotta tighten up.
Overall, I'm pretty excited about Pump & Run. Every time I try out a new class, I'm hit with the same butterflies in my stomach, the same waves of fear and insecurity. But then I give it a shot, acquaint myself with it, and months later I find myself getting up at 4AM, or doing a handstand against the wall, or doing a 'mambo mambo' around a step. Now I can honestly say that I truly love all of my classes, even the ones in which I struggle the most. When I finish one and I'm driving home, I literally could not care less if I ever see 120 on a scale; I don't care about pant sizes or arm fat or muffin tops. All I know is that what I'm doing makes me insanely happy, like all the time. So yeah, right at this moment, the thought of running five miles and lifting a Chrissy is a bit unnerving. But I'm going to take this thing one week at a time and enjoy every minor victory and wall for what it is: a step in the right direction. But first, I will have to apologize to my fellow Sharptown UMC-ers in advance. Normally I make real efforts to look decent for church; unfortunately, from now until February I will be arriving to church as one big, sweaty, shlubby mess in hoodies and sneaks. And you're just gonna have to love me anyway because Jesus says so.
:-)
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