I should've known better. The class had "Attack" in the title, and I'm more of a pacifist when it comes to life and exercise. The instructor kept shouting that she was going easy on us today, which made me think that the "normal" class must be some kind of advanced Navy SEAL training. I survived and everything--I mean, I'm not blogging from the afterlife, but it was tough. It was sports-inspired, high impact aerobics. And given that I've never tried speed skating on the ice, it wasn't very easy for me to simulate it in running shoes. Also, I am lousy at push ups. And when we were mimicking ski jumps--jumping with both knees up as high as we could get 'em, and then leaping from side to side--I thought, I'm going to die in here and I never even started the dishwasher this morning. So much left undone.
Anyway, I think my growing familiarity with Zumba has made me a little flippant. Cause this class was a whole nother level, y'all. When the hour was finished, my face was a brilliant shade of red. I think it should be a paint color. We could call it "Aerobics Newbie Red". What do you think? It's a red just a shade lighter than "Cardiac Explosion". It pairs nicely with neutral furnishings.
Of course, I'll go back. But this time I'm either making a friend come with me, or I'm gonna write Jason's mobile number on the back of my shirt with a Sharpie. "If asphyxiated or crying like a little girl, call this number."