Step It Up

I was in college. She was my friend. She had the kind of personality where words like "spunk" and "energy" flowed freely when trying to describe her, and was the kind who always had a tan. She was also an aerobics instructor at Gold's Gym. Now in my defense (you'll soon see why it's necessary) I was very active in college. In fact, if it wasn't for co-ed intramural basketball I can't promise that Cory and I would have kindled a relationship. (Seeing him in shorts helped move things along.) But it was definitely intramural sports where I invested my physical time, and not the gym. So when my friend asked me to come to the step aerobics class she taught, I thought, "What the heck? I'm in good shape. How hard can that be? Except I should probably not wear my INTRAMURAL CHAMPIONS t-shirt to class. I don't want to be too intimidating on my first visit."

We walked in, I set myself up with the equipment, and then I took mental note of all the pledging sorority sisters around me. My defense mechanisms quickly sensed a need to express themselves and I thought, "Yeah, but can you do a reverse layup?" I think that's when I knew I was in trouble.
You should know that when I am working out really hard, my face gets really red. And when I work out to the point of public shame and embarrassment, it's not uncommon for my complexion to reveal hues more akin to the plum and eggplant families. This was definitely an eggplant day.
May I suggest to anyone out there that I still have power to save that if you have never done step aerobics before it would behoove you to start with something other than an advanced class? May I also alert you to the fact that attempting such a feat in a group exercise room constructed entirely out of windows that face the rest of the gym in simulation of a shark exhibit might cause you psychological harm.

It's been over 15 years now, you'd think I could let it go. The good news is that I didn't give up my attmepts at mastering that class, and it was particularly evident to me today as I listened to my instructor yell out commands such as "6-count mambo shasay with a double knee over shuffle turn straddle ham repeater" and I didn't miss a beat. The challenge is when I see someone come in that I don't recognize and I suspect it's their 1st time. The music starts, we begin the warm up, the new girl already doesn't get it, and I am way too familiar with how she feels. The worst part is that she probably doesn't even realize that this is just the warm up, and her journey to blinding humiliation has just begun. Hopefully being surrounded by a bunch of moms instead of aspiring Laker Girls will soften the blow.