Because, you know, it’s just what I do now, and I just mention it in conversation like any regular thing, “Oh, just going to zumba tonight, didn’t get to go last week and I’m REALLY looking forward to it, I just feel like something’s off when I miss a class, you know?” This is all true – thanks to a good friend I felt brave enough to try out zumba and discovered I liked it. It always feels good to come back and it’s fun to see myself in the gym’s mirror:
I don’t move with the same speed or energy as our trainer, but then I’m NOT the trainer, so that’s fine. Whenever she praises us and tells us how wonderfully we did, I want to hug her and tell her how nice she is. But she seems to know it’s about the smiles each woman eventually has for herself during the class, and not just about the individual ways in which we all interpret the moves we’re shown.
However, we do need her guidance. Recently she’s been attempting to show us the moves and the choreography, subsequently doing one sequence with us and then stopping, perhaps for a well-deserved break, letting us follow the choreo (watch me drop the slang like nobody’s business) on our own. The moment she stopped moving, things unraveled like a rolling ball of yarn.
Our trainer rightly identifies the potential for disaster and steps in once again. She doubles her speed and I just skip in place like an overgrown toddler, minus the cuteness. I do love the bent forward, backwards running, booty-shaking part, though. We’re all good at it and it creates a strong tribe vibe (rhyme alert). I’m not saying squad, because I haven’t researched if that’s still trendy nowadays, plus we don’t know each other.
We finish the last routine before the last relaxing sequence, the trainer giving it her all, while I stay true to myself.