Today I did Zumba for the first time…

I am slightly dying and starting to feel aches develop in places where I didn’t actually realise there were muscles.

Fittingly, Sali Hughes has an article on the newly launched (and EXCELLENT) website The Pool discussing why we’re all in pursuit of enjoyable exercise and whether it ever actually is.


So how did my zumba debut go?

Well, when the instructor introduces herself as “oh, I do probably the most aerobic zumba class in Brighton”, the natural reaction is to laugh nervously, yes? That’s what I did anyway. I was also reassured that I probably wouldn’t get the choreography in the first lesson. But I had paid my fiver and as a Yorkshire woman, I was not about to let that money go to waste.

“Get”? I spent quite a bit of the class fudging my moves and, when I couldn’t work out what the bloody hell was happening, I sort of jogged embarrassingly like a third rate pub footballer on the touchline hoping to get a shot at playing in a Sunday league game. Also, my trainers were too heavy, which made Benn think I was mad when I told him. I liked that I could do some of the lunge-y moves (thanks, Davina!) and some of the hand movements were reminiscent of the Bollywood workout video I did as a teenager and I was proud of myself for being able to do those whilst moving other bits, too. After forty minutes of trying to avoid looking at myself in the mirror- I’m a realist, not a sadist; I didn’t need to see how badly I was doing, no matter how awesome my Powerpuff Girls t-shirt was- the lesson was over and I could hobble the five minutes it took to get home.


Two hours after I got back, fed, watered and showered to within an inch of my life,  how do I feel now? Well, the SOLES of my feet ache, my collarbone aches, I’m pathetically coughing in the manner of stereotypical Victorian street urchins as portrayed on The Simpsons and I’m pretty sure I’ll be walking like a cardboard cut-out tomorrow. However, I am wide awake, despite D throwing a tantrum at 3am because I wouldn’t read him a story and I feel justified in eating chocolate.

So yes, I’ll be sore tomorrow, but I’m going back next week. I have to. I already paid my fiver.

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