Is it worth it, let me work it

I do like getting my fitness on. And we all know that you better just keep working out because while it may take time to get in shape, it takes no time at all to get out of shape. Call it the law of irony, I know.

Next thing you know, your jeans refuse to even let you "slip" them on and for some reason your scale has added weight but you know that can't be right. Blame the batteries all you like.

Getting fit requires work. Go walk. Ride a bike. Climb stairs. Something.
I will be the first to attest, your ass won't lose itself.

I feel an infinite sense of balance if I have daily workouts. I even worked out until I was 6 months pregnant. And for the record, when they say you should not do exercises on your back when you are pregnant, and you scoff, and then you try it and murmur in pain. Ummm, listen up next time, smarty. You arent the M.D.

So perhaps it came as a bit of a surprise what happened last night at the gym.

I decided to take a Cardio Hip Hop class. Now, dance + big mirrors + loud music is a version of heaven for me. Seriously, get that industrial sized fan going and I won't be leaving any time soon.

So I go to this class, clearly full of regulars jockeying for front row position, and I pony up to an up front spot. I used to be a competitive dancer so I have no fear hanging out at the front of that room. Mmm hmmmm. Easy there Cocky Balboa.

A woman walked in super chatty with multiple people. She was a very healthy girl. And by very healthy, I mean, she was a very good sized gal. She makes her way to the front of the room and puts on a headset. Have you been to a cardio class? Headsets are for the instructors. Period. I thought well, this will be interesting. In ten years at this gym, I have never seen a girl over 100 pounds, 70 of which are pure muscle, teaching a cardio class. Ever. And while I had never been to this particular class, my mind may have formed an opinion too soon.

Since we had five minutes before the class actually started, Ms. Hip Hop decided we would do an early warm up. Everyone on their backs for some abdominal fun. I had no fear.

And Ms. Hip Hop was chat chat chatting away. And then she said we could do 100 crunches. Done. Oh, 100 more? Oh side to side working those obliques? Ummm, ok. On what felt like my 700th crunch, she is still chatting away words of encouragement and cranking those crunches out like she was made of steel. I felt an earthquake and then realized that was just my core and stomach muscles having spasms. Is abdominal party time over yet? Oh my.

What is that about judging books by covers? Shame. on. me.

So class begins as I am weakened from tummy torture. And this girl can dance. And she can kick-ball change. And she can shake her moneymaker. And she can do it all over and over again. Fifty more times. No you don't need a water break, ladies, she says. You need to work up a sweat.

I promise you that I would have no better training for a MC Hammer video than what was being delivered in this class. Did she hear my inner monologue. M_______F__.

Oh here comes a move where we squat and then jump up from one leg and do a high kick. Oh, I love some high kicks. Oh, do that ten times in a row? Ummmm. Ok.

Oh, slide down floor on one hip, legs to the side, and one arm holding us for balance? S-s-s-sure.

One hour later, I was a hot mess. I wanted to show some personal attention to that industrial fan. Is it wrong to attempt to make sweet, sweet love to it? I was delirious with exhaustion. I tried to embrace it like a holy angel except I was momentarily too weak to stand. Don't mind me while I lay here and mew for a minute more. The instructor? She probably went right out and ran 10 miles.

As if I didn't know already, here is affirmation, you can learn something new everyday.