I had a Zumba DVD that I got from Special K boxtops and I'd seen the infomercials. But I'd never done a live Zumba class before and I was dying to. This morning I had printed out the class schedule at my gym and highlighted classes I'd like to try.
Turbo Kick, shadowboxing, Zumba ... I was looking for something to shake up my treadmill blahs.
I had been meaning to, but never got around to working out today. Laundry, dishes, the usual. Soon it was dinner and the weather was miserable so I ordered takeout for the family from Pei Wei after scouring their nutritional stats (Thai Dynamite with steamed shrimp and brown rice for me.) After I placed the order online I glanced down at the gym schedule and thought: "Hmmm, if we get done with dinner in time, I can still make the Zumba class." Here's the timeline:
6:40: Pick up dinner.
6:50: Come home with dinner and promptly eat it.
7:10: Change into workout clothes and dash off to the gym.
I was keeping up with the class, sweating my butt off, my heart rate an impressive 140-150 throughout the class.
8:25: A wave comes over me, like nothing I've felt before. (OK, I felt it once before, the day I rammed my head into a metal door and broke my arm racing to pick up my son from school for a dental appointment. Don't ask.)
I sat down on an aerobic step off in the corner and tried hard not to show the class what I ate for dinner. I was dying. OK, I wasn't dying. According to my heart rate monitor, my heart rate was coming down pretty quickly, so it wasn't a heart attack.
While I was sitting with my head in my hands, my dinner was still Zumba-ing in my gut. I crawled off to the ladies room to explode or die or collapse.
A couple of minutes later, I returned to the aerobics room, just to assure the instructor that she didn't kill anyone tonight. I told her my story and we laughed and laughed and laughed.
I'm an idiot.
But I'm also in love with Zumba.