Zumba

I can’t help but notice that everyone my age seems to be involved in some kind of physical activity in a do or die effort to stay in shape. I realize that I’m being a little fast and loose with the phrase “stay in shape“ since most of us weren’t exactly in tip top condition to begin with. At 5 foot 5 and 112 pounds, I’m not worried about my weight, but I would like to retain at least a modicum of muscle tone.

Because I have never much enjoyed exercise for the sake of exercise, I started checking around for something that I might enjoy. I settled on Zumba. I found a class without too much trouble and signed up.

When I showed up the first day, I walked into the building and sat on a bench to change into the correct footwear. I asked the girl beside me who had already started several months ago if she thought the class was hard. “Oh, no,” she replied. "Not at all. There’s even a guy in the class who’s in his 80s! Of course he did have a heart attack that one day, and we had to use the paddles and call 911, but he’s back now and doing really well!” A few minutes later I saw this man, Howard, and I must say he did look raring to go. He greeted everyone, then turned and walked into class heading straight for his usual spot in the center of the front row.

As someone who once aspired to be a professional dancer many years ago when I was young and foolish, I was sure I would be the best one in the class. I wasn’t. Howard was. He had natural rhythm, knew all the steps, and had a surprisingly high energy level. He put the rest of us to shame. I was disappointingly average.

Despite my subpar performance, I really did enjoy the class, but due to all that hip action, I began to develop a nagging soreness and had to quit. I would have to find a new form of exercise. Very disappointing. Last time I checked, however, Howard was still there. Still front and center. Still going strong.