It "Ain't" Zumba

After years of pushing my body and utterly abusing it in the process, four surgeries later for a variety of ailments from my heart to my knees, I've decided to finally take care of myself. I should say, try, to take care of myself. I was smart enough to join Weight Watchers before the holidays and have managed to lose 14 pounds of the "tonnage" I still need to rid myself of. I am unfortunately no longer able to run and the pain at times from walking limits my activity, but somehow I needed to find a way to exercise.

My son, who belongs to two health clubs - one associated with his job - took me as a visitor to the one that has a large pool. I tried several "devices" from free weights to an exercise bike, becoming instantly very sore, but the pool is what I really wanted to do. This club also appeared to have people of all ages and sizes with none of the "Hollywood" types that turn most people off when thinking of joining health clubs. My son offered to put me on his membership - the cost being damn reasonable at $29 a month.

After three consecutive days of swimming in chlorinated 85 degree water and loving every minute of it, I saw on the schedule a one hour daily water aerobics class. My wife took one a long time ago and raved about it plus I know I would be able to do things in the water that are not possible for me on dry land. I don't have a regular work schedule, so 9am every morning was perfect for me. You didn't need to sign up or any of that nonsense, just show up.

I got to the pool about fifteen minutes early. I hung my extra large towel up and took off my Crocs, which if they got wet would completely screw me up because I wrote, in pen, the combination of my locker on both heels. I'm terrible with numbers, both calculating and remembering them. My wife told me to buy a lock that you could open and close with a word, but I couldn't find one at Wal-Mart. I've haven't had to use a combination lock for anything since junior high school and just turning the dial trying to get it open brought back terrible memories. I could have bought a key lock but then I'd probably lose it.

There were four people in the pool talking among themselves. They looked to be about 70ish. They were discussing cruising - where they've been, where they've just come back from and where they place to go in the near future. There is term - "Q-Tips" - referring to senior citizens and their white hair. Well, these were all Q-Tips, with all due respect, and their combined weight was probably around 2500 lbs. One of the men had to be pushing 400 lbs. which is fine and dandy with me because it only makes me look that smaller. I've long since stopped being concerned about how I look in a bathing suit, but it helps to know that others much larger than me apparently feel the same way about themselves.

By the time the class started there were 25 more Q-Tips, all of the them obese. The leader was old but fit and trim. Not someone who you would see on Oprah as a fitness guru, but she'll get the job done. I later found out that she had just been asked to fill in for the regular woman who was MIA. I was told by one of the ladies in the pool that I need to have my water aerobics "gear" also known as swim bar floats or resistance hands bars. I got out of the pool, got my "gear", returned to the water and was then told by another lady to use the proper grip.

Now there were five men, not including me, in the pool, for the workout. I said I've never done anything like this, so I was there to exercise and learn -  my eyes and ears focusing in on the commands of the instructor. For the "other" men there, it was play time. It is so true when they say you revert in age the older you get. You're born a baby and die a baby. Old men are a combination of horny "dirt" old farts and little boys. These 70+ year old boys were laughing, splashing and throwing their "gear" at each other, while the women (and me) looked on and the instructor becoming quite pissed off. I thought these guys were going to take out squirt guns and blast each other with soapy water - like I used to do in camp when I was 10 years old.

After a few more minutes of this child play, the leader told them to cut it out. I thought she was going to put them in some sort of time out at the shallow end of the pool until they decided to behave. The rest of us were doing leg lifts, knee bends and arm stretching. We could have used some music. As I'm bouncing up and down in the water, I noticed from across the gym a bunch of women aggressively dancing and jumping to a deep base pounding rap beat. That was the Zumba class which perhaps in my dreams I might do someday. If the boys stopped playing with themselves and look out the window, they'd see the twenty something "hotties" shaking with the music. Their loss.

I guess I was so fixed on the view across the hall that I kind of starting doing my own thing out of sync with everyone else. I looked up and saw the leader's eyes gazing right at me while she was waving her arms and yelling at me to get with the program. I could hear the old ladies snicker at me. "Deeper", "closer", "wider", "no that way", was what I heard shouted at me until I was brought back in line with the rest of the group. The other men were merely making believe and going through the motions of the class.

Twenty-five or so minutes into the program I was not only getting into "it" but was becoming exhausted. The Zumba class seemed to be moving now faster than ever. I also felt like I was being singled out because I was the newbie - a water aerobics virgin. I tried to hide behind one of the larger females in the pool, but she kept drifting away. At that point, the leader had given up trying to corral the other men. They became goofier than ever. There was no hot sun above us, but I began to perspire - I was really getting "jiggy" with this water exercise deal. If I slowed down even in the slightest way - now all the women took over cajoling me as if some delegation by estrogen magically transferred responsibility for my workout.

Fifty minutes into this aqua torture and it's time to cool down. As one of the men - children - so appropriately yelled out as he threw his resistance hand bars off to the side of the pool - thank God. "Reach for the sky", "higher, higher, wider, wider" commanded the leader, none of men listening except me. I heard a whisper in my ear "Don't forget to breathe sweetie" from behind me. I turned and whoever it was had floated away. Once last big stretch and it was all over with. I was hot, tired - I was wasted. I wanted to fall asleep somewhere. The hot tub spa thingy was closed otherwise I would have jumped in there and fallen asleep.

So, it "ain't" Zumba, but it sure as hell is a workout. The class, especially the ladies, as old and heavy as they are, got through the 55 minutes without a hitch. They've been doing it for years they told me. The men got out of the pool like teenagers running out of class when the lunch bells rings. As I was waiting for the pool to empty, one of the heaviest of them floated over to me and asked if this was my first class. "Yes it is", I said. "Well", he said, "you've got to come back tomorrow because that leader is so much better! It will be a real workout", he claimed. I thanked him, walked up the steps and barely made it to my car. Sure, I'll give it another whirl tomorrow.