I've always had an aversion towards group exercise. I'm just too darn competitive. Case in point: a few weeks ago, I embarked on a long run along the Charles River in Boston. It was a gorgeous day, and the trail abounded with young mothers jogging with baby buggies, couples running in tandem, friends in tight clusters meandering along as they recounted last night's activities. That morning, though, my sole purpose in life was to beat them all. In the end, I couldn't help myself. I ended up sprinting the length of the Charles. Sure I was panting, but I was also prideful.
I consider aerobics classes to be breeding grounds of competition. Spinning is perhaps the most lethal. Mirrored walls multiply the dozens pairs of legs cycling around me and, once again, I am utterly overwhelmed and stirred to be the best. While spinning, it is absolutely crucial that I pedal the fastest in a sprint, or endure the largest crank of resistance on a hill. Whereas some may find an exercise class to be a warm and supportive arena that provides that necessary extra jolt of motivation, I normally regard such a class to be a leveling plane, which discourages me to no end.
Zumba, however, was a different case altogether. Zumba class is all about flaunting your bod. The class is structured in such a way that the instructor leads you through a series of mini dance sequences that she herself has specifically designed for each song. I arrived at Zumba class with my best friend, fully expecting it to be the ideal gentle workout on my day off of running. Do not be so naïve. This is a high-intensity, full body feat, and I promise you, it's so worth your time.
Our instructor, a woman of teeny tiny proportion, had the entire group of women that comprised our class absolutely riveted. Donning a bright blue tank and cropped spandex pants, she flitted around the room, flinging her curly-cued hair and shimmying as she went. Half of the amusement for me was watching passers-by, mouths agape, drifting by the glass walls like zombies.
In order to demonstrate how to best target our core while gyrating our bodies, our instructor regularly lifted up her top to reveal her taut stomach and the glint of a silver belly-button ring. To my dismay, she had no shame whatsoever. And it occurred to me that this was what I loved most about this class; it was utterly carefree. There was no race to be won. By the time our instructor whipped out a bejeweled, jangling shawl (the kind regularly worn by belly dancers) and wound it tightly around her waist, I was a group exercise convert.
And it gets better still! Visit http://www.zumba.com/us/shop/ to primp for class.