Kim Watters here. Okay so last month I told you about my experience with the YMCA. This month I have to admit that I did attend the Zumba class offered. Going in I knew that I didn’t really know how to dance. I just didn’t know how bad I really didn’t know how to dance meant.The Sunday afternoon class is packed with people. Great. I can get lost in the crowd. At least my friend, Debbie, that I convinced to take the class with me is in the same shoes. We hide in the back row, hoping to go unnoticed. Er-my friend is almost 6’ tall. No way that’s going to happen. In comes the instructor, who zeroes in on us first thing.
“Welcome class. If this is your first time, just follow along and do your best. Don’t over do yourselves and there are no wrong moves.”
“Good.” I whisper to Debbie. “That instills a lot of confidence in me. What have we gotten ourselves in to?”
Debbie laughs and nods, wearing a horrified expression.
The music starts and we’re off. Egads.
“Come, ladies, let’s go. Get that heart rate up. We’ve got to move it, move it.”
What is the instructor doing? Where’s the ease into the workout? I’m breaking into a sweat and it isn’t from exertion yet. I stumble to the right and then the left, all my klutziness there for all to see in the full-length mirrors on two sides of the room. My friend isn’t faring much better. At least at this point we’re still laughing. Somewhat. Forward, back, to the right, to the left. Add the arms or weapons as the other women in the class must be thinking about now. My body has taken on a life of it’s own. And I’m still at least one beat behind everyone else in the class. Just when I think I’ve got the move down, we change to something else.
Judging from the warm-up, the instructor can dance. I’ve never felt inadequate before until I realize that my hips just don’t go in that direction. The class goes left, Debbie and I go right. We jiggle this way, the class jiggles the other way. The salsa? Really? One , two, three, now switch. Maybe I should be looking for a class that works out to the Polka. Being of German and Polish decent, I may find that a little more my style. Nonetheless, we stick it out and make it to the end with only a few bruises.
Despite the fact I can’t dance, I had fun and went again. And keep going although my hips still don’t go the same direction as the instructor’s. I finally get the hang of the dances and now the instructor has changed things up. The moves are even harder. I’ve given up trying to learn them and just bounce around to the music in a mad attempt to look like I know what I’m doing, but I’m still having fun.
The same goes for writing. Go beyond your comfort zone and explore options that seem difficult. Change things up to add variety. Change a genre. Try a new profession for your characters that requires a bit of research. Something in your book not working? Try something else. But most of all have fun. See you in Zumba later.
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