OK. After a day off to tend to our swollen asses, we get back at it with what was I think was supposed to be ‘strength training’ but the instructor for that couldn’t make it (I think that’s what happened, I am always late to start since I work until 5 and it starts at 5 and I have to get my son from Daycare across town first) My ass pain was down to a dull throb so I could limp much faster than yesterday and I was ready to go.
Anyway, they changed things up and put us in the “Zoomba” room. I was immediately wary of this as “Zoomba” is much like “Spinning” in that only women go to the classes so I was sure it would involve intense groin violence…. but we didn’t do “Zoomba” as far as I know so it was OK. Maybe we did do Zoomba… nobody ever defines Zoomba if you ask. They always just say “it’s a blast!” or “it’s so fun!” “But what IS it?” you can ask but they will reply “You’ll love it!” Even the posters advertising it are vauge. They just say: ZOOMBA! – Join the PARTY!! So basically it could be a codeword for “Meth” or “Swinger Party” but nobody is sure if they aren’t in it.
Anyway, the kids and the parents were all in the same room for this one. When I say ‘parents’, I mean me, another dude and the rest either single mothers or they have husbands who are surely in perfect shape (or they heard about the spinning bikes).
We got there late and they were just finishing their warm-ups. Great, now I’m at great risk to pull a hammy (my hamstring, not a delicious sandwich)because I haven’t warmed up.
Luckily we start out slow with “The Hokey Pokey”. OK. Fine. I can put things in and out of undefined areas and shake them all about then mince around in a circle. In fact, that’s how I spend most of my day.
Then we move on to “The Bunny Hop”. Great. More childrens level exercise. I can hang with this all day. But wait… this Bunny Hop stuff seems easier on paper than in practice. Sure, the first five go well, but it wasn’t stopping. “Hopping” is easy for bunnies because they are very small. You don’t see many 340 lb bunnies around unless you are a delusional psychopath or a childrens song writer. If there were huge bunnies, they sure as hell wouldn’t hop. They would ride in scooters around the mall. After what seemed like hop number 85 we finally stopped and looked around the room at each other looking for fellow fat folk sympathy. Our shins were screaming to each other on a frequency we couldn’t hear, but we knew.
Now we rolled out big mats and lined up tallest to shortest to pair up for big bouncy ball time! I am the third tallest in the class. The other guy is the tallest, then a large, imposing woman, and then me. I was paired with the big guy’s wife who really is not in bad shape at all, especially compared to almost everyone else. Wait.. my wife will probably read this…
Anyway, this hideous thing and I have to share the bouncy ball, taking turns bouncing on the ball (yeah… there isn’t much room for pride in the Zoomba Room… too much Zoomba I suppose). When the, uh, ugly, despicable, woman was in front of me in short shorts bouncing up and down on a big ball all I could think about was… “her husband is looking right at me so I will look around the room in complete disinterest.” That’s when I discovered that my son didn’t share my sense of tact or fear of getting his ass kicked. He was just STARING. The sort of confused/intense stare of a nine year old boy that says : “I don’t know what I’m looking at exactly, but for some reason, I can’t look away!” Here is where parents differ. A mother would probably reprimand the boy for being rude. But a fathers instict kicks in and he says… nothing. We’re just happy that they aren’t staring at the dude bouncing on a ball so we say: Go ahead and stare son. We’ll just have to teach you how to do it while not being so obvious about it, but that will come in time.
So then we did this “partner ball leg push” game where we pushed the giant ball back and forth with our legs as we laid on our backs. That one hurt but in a good “using the muscles” hurt, not the “I’m injuring myself” hurt. (stupid spinning bikes… it’s been four days and my ass feels worse than yesterday)
Then we did some sort of Yoga stuff where we tried to dislocate our hips and tear our knee ligaments in a calm and peaceful manner.
Then we did some other kind of kids song dance where you listen to some MC Hammer wanna-be with poor diction skills tell you to slide to the left and then to the right then you stomp your foot and more hopping and then you “do the Charlie Brown” which wasn’t clearly defined at all so I ended up just getting depressed about my kite being eaten by the kite eating tree.
Then we were done. So the 2nd day was much better in terms of causing injury and it was fun to work with the kids. Tomorrow (actually today) is “Counseling” and “Cardio” which should be good as long as a bike seat isn’t involved.
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