Zumba Zombie.  How it All Went Down. 

***For your own personal safety, please note that there are no pictures in this blog***

So, after the Aftermath, cometh the Afterburn.  It was time to pay my penance for such a poor showing in Week 2 of the GL&LC and hit up the Zumba class in my health class as per my self-inflicted forfeit.  Of course, the timing couldn't have been more perfect, coming the morning after a long-planned night out with my Brit namesake mate for a 5-course Italian tasting menu with wine pairing (Bloomspot voucher this time).  And YES - I used one of my four remaining Prince Passes - so it was all above board and legal as set out in The Rules of The Challenge.

Damn, the champagne tasted good.  *sigh*

Anyway, I was up bright and early, giving myself plenty of time for tea and self-administered pep talks.   I'd actually been pretty sensible last night and so wasn't feeling hungover or stuffed from the previous night's indulgences - the only feeling in my stomach was one of despair, as I contemplated the task ahead.   But part of me was also looking forward to going back to my health club, a fantastic place along the Embarcadero called the Bay Club, as I hadn't been in months, since before I went on holiday to Bhutan.

But, as time tends to do, the clock ticked inexorably towards 11am and so, with a full bladder and a heavy heart, it was time to saddle up the steel pony, jam the brain bucket on my head and bike on over to the club.  The weather outside was beautiful - warm, sunny and with a light enough breeze to keep you cool while tooling along the water's edge.   Alas, I didn't enter into any wibbly-wobbly timey-wimey time vortices or suffer multiple tyre punctures so, before I knew it, I had arrived.  I managed to waste another few minutes at the front desk enquiring about private squash lessons but, finally, there was no putting it off any longer.  I had to do what had to be done.

I made my way to the Main Studio where the class was to be held.  The Bay Club is in this old converted paper factory and is absolutely ENORMOUS. It could probably hold all the Equinoxes in NYC and have room for a spare Crunch thrown in to boot.  It's got pretty much everything you could ask for in a health club - as well as a plethora of gym space and exercise studios, it has a dedicated Yoga and Pilates space, 5 squash courts, an indoor swimming pool, a basketball court plus a tennis court and lounging area on the roof.  And, for when you've completed your workout and its time to pamper yourself, it offers full spa and massage services, a cafe, a little store where you can buy overpriced Lululemon apparel (see - just like being back in NYC) and hot tubs, saunas and steam rooms a-plenty in the locker rooms.

And a crazily happy woman dressed in bright yellow pants waiting to inflict an hour of Zumba on me in the main studio at 11.45am.

It was bonkers.  The class was pretty full (though nothing like The Big Game full) and, I have to say, the atmosphere was great!!  Not only was the instructor lady (who came complete with husband playing the drums - I kid thee not) very effervescent and full of Latina energy, but so was the rest of the class!  There was lots of whooping and Yeah-ing and the music was kicking!   It actually came the closest to a Lacey Stone Spin Class Special that I've experienced since I left NYC, so you couldn't help but smile at the complete craziness of it all!

So far, so good.  I'd managed to successfully enter the studio, find a place to stand nervously and hadn't tripped over my own feet once.  Yet.  Playing it safe and - in full knowledge of the co-ordination shortfall that was to ensue - I took refuge in the back right hand corner.  That way, I only had to worry about running into the person next to me on two sides, not four - crashing into the wall I could totally cope with.  With that weird spatial dynamic that all group fitness classes seem to possess (except in NYC where no-one gives up a single inch of any hard-won floor space), everyone managed to find a space for themselves and, looking round, it was a pretty eclectic group.  I think I spotted one bloke but the rest of the class were women - of all shapes, sizes and ages.  I think I might have spotted Betty White.  There were obviously the acolytes (or maybe fellow instructors) at the front of the class right next to Yellow Pants With Tassles Lady, the Aspirants (the second row wannabees), The Insincere Regulars ("oh hey...yeah...so great to see you...!") as well as the First Timers (me), the What The Hell Am I Doing Here'rs (also me) and a range of attitudes and excitement levels in between.  But - for all the diversity - we all had one thing in common.  Every single person in that room was white.  Other than the instructor, not a Latina or Brazilian or anyone in possession of a natural sense of rhythm.  That's when I thought to myself ...."I might just be able to get through this...."

The music starts and we're off!!  Cue lots of jumping around and fast footwork but - you know what - I can do this!!  I'm actually following along!!  This is OK!  Oooh - lunge-y type things!!  I remember those.  OOOOooo - and a grapevine!!  I CAN DO THIS!!!

And then the warm-up was over.

And 50 mins of sheer gyrating terror took over.   In all truth, it wasn't quite as bad as I'd feared - but it was certainly bad enough.  I couldn't see the instructor very well (not that i'm sure it really would have helped much) cos this tall lady in purple always seemed to be just in my line of sight, so I ended up following one of her acolytes instead.  As I shimmied and puffed and sweated my way through the next 45 minutes, a number of questions surfaced unbidden in my mind.  What are hips?  Do I have them?  Where are they?  Why don't mine move? How can they move their feet so quickly?  And how on earth do they get their arses to move in that direction?  And how do I get my arse to stop moving in that direction?  And why is her husband now playing a giant cheese grater?  Is it over yet?

However, an equal number of insights also came to me as I slowly grew more oxygen deprived.  I finally understood the reasoning for the tassels attached to the backside of Yellow Pants Lady (careful, lady, you could take an eye out with those things).  I also, quite shockingly, realized that I was not the person in the room with the worst co-ordination.  THERE WERE PEOPLE MUCH MUCH WORSE THAN ME!!!  Including purple tall lady in front of me.  They SUCKED!!  And didn't give a sh*t!!  How on earth was this possible?  It really was quite a mystery to me that people with worse co-ordination than I were still managing to function as living, breathing individuals and not fall off the sidewalk into traffic, tumble headlong from high bridges or bag a coveted place on the Darwin Awards list.  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Darwin_Awards

I also, however, realized that - for me - there is, indeed, a fate far far worse than Zumba that potentially awaits.  Its called Bollywood.  Described as "a dance class that mixes traditional style Indian folk dancing with Hip-Hop moves", I would alternatively describe it as an Exercise Armageddon.  My cardio Kryptonite.  I'd seen it listed before and vaguely thought about doing it in the past, but was too scared, but today - out of nowhere - we did a couple of Bollywood-style routines during Zumba and I was completely lost.  With Bollocks-wood, its not just about the legs and doing all of that crazy footwork stuff, but its equally about the arms too.  You're supposed to waggle those around, in a co-ordinated manner and try and look all sultry and sexy whilst doing so.  Utterly impossible!  I tried the best I could but I was Out of My League.  So, obviously, that one is now being placed into the Potato of Destiny and Despair as a forfeit for future GL&LC infractions.

I also came to realize, in a moment of snatched conversation with Tall Purple Lady, that I had happened upon the very first ever HOUR long Zumba class and that, prior to that week, the classes had only been 45 min.  Lucky, lucky me.   Our conversation also shed some light on one of the reasons why I, mysteriously, wasn't the worst person in class.

Tall Purple Lady: These extra fifteen minutes are really hard, aren't they?

Me:  Oh.... did it only used to be 45 minutes?  This is my first ever class.

Tall Purple Lady: Oh, really?  Well....how do you know all the moves then? 

Me:  Who me?  I don't.  I'm just following that lady next to the instructor at the front.

Tall Purple Lady:  Oh, really?  Well.... I was following you.

 Mystery solved.