Zoom, Zoom

Due to an unfortunate set of timing circumstances - a 5 am Group Workout and a 6 pm Spanish class, I found myself, last Thursday, forced into Zumba class - the only option if I wanted to get in my 30 point group class.

The first and only time I had done Zumba was back in 2008 or so, at GoodLife, during my free trial - and vowed never again. Every memory I had of the hour spent working out to Spanish tunes, was underpinned with memories of humiliation and pain.

However, with points at stake, I saddled up.

Thanks to the intervening six years and countless workouts and classes, I was at least FAMILIAR with the moves. What I wasn't familiar with was the room setup. I had strategically placed myself in the far right-side, against the wall, a position akin to outfield. What I hadn't accounted for was the instructor's use of the wall-length mirror, so I ended up standing next to her, trapped in the front row, from which for everyone else, my "moves" would be a spectator sport.

Life has taught me to laugh at these moments of personal humiliation, so I just did my best to keep up to the beat and hope my movements weren't too many steps behind the instructor. Who am I kidding? Some of my moves weren't anything like the instructor's! And my arms and legs weren't my only swinging appendages either!