Zumba hurts SO good. Sometimes.

You know the age old expression "no pain, no gain"? I'm living the very meaning of this today. This morning is rough. I am sore. Very, very, VERY sore. Some of it is a 'good' sore, but most of it is a bad sore. I'd even go as far as using the word "pain". Oh, and maybe "swollen" too. And "crunchy". Yes. Definitely crunchy.

As I mentioned in a previous post, I'm fat. I get it, I accept it, and I'm working on changing it. Part of my efforts in removing weight is exercising. Specifically, Zumba. I LOVE the class; it's the only form of exercise that I've ever done where after an hour I'm disappointed when the cool down part starts. The time flies, and I'm honestly having fun, which is pretty much an oxymoron, because "FUN" and "EXERCISE" are definitely 2 things that do *NOT* go together. Or at least by my standards.

What I love the most about the classes I attend is that there are so many 'different' people there with varying fitness levels, and the fact that we can all come together and mostly move in the same ways. Some are a bit intimidating with their incredible skill and ability, but there are an equal amount of folk who flail and just 'move' in an effort to even partially keep up. Regardless of one's ability, we all laugh. Not *AT* each other, but *WITH* each other. OK, well actually, I'm sure that people laugh *AT* me, but I'm OK with it. I KNOW that I'm not a highly skilled Zumba-er. When I don't know the move or 'can't' get it quite right, I typically just move my legs and flail around, resembling a peacock in heat I'm sure. At least I'm moving, right? The way I see it . . . I'm sweating, I'm feeling it, and I'm having fun. That's all that counts. Right?!

I'm very limited in exercise options for myself. Bike riding; stairmaster; eliptical gliders, rowing machines and traditional weight machines are a no go with my tailbone the way it is. Running, skating, skiing (alpine) and walking very far in my own town (it's quite hilly - although there is a small non-hilly circuit I can do) are a no go's because of my knee and hip, so when I figured that I CAN do Zumba, I was quite excited. For real. Excited for exercise.

Zumba is a lucrative business here. Oddly enough, it's difficult to get a ticket. The classes we attend are 'drop ins', meaning you buy your ticket the day of the said drop in class. There 120 spots/tickets available. Normally, you'd think that you just show up a few minutes before class, pay your money and carry on to the gym. Not here. Nuh-uh. No way. You leave it until then, and you for SURE are not getting in. For us, that means that between the group of us that go, we have to co-ordinate who GETS the tickets, and believe me . . . that is a HUGE heap of responsiblity to shoulder. Ticket sales start at 12:00 noon. That means that someone needs to haul ass to the rec centre and line up between 11:30 and 11:40. Then stand and wait until 12:00. If you aren't there before 12:00, then basically you're out of luck. For real. It's *THAT* big. People waiting in line with their $6 (or any other multiple of 6 as MOST people are buying 2+ tickets) eager to *BUY* a chance to sweat like pigs and ache the next day. We are a morbid species, no?! I suppose it's pretty humourous for one to see the process that unfolds the morning of Zumba . . . text messages, emails, facebook messages, phone calls . . . all co-ordinating who's going to lace up their boxing gloves and take one for the team by getting in there to get tickets. Admittedly, I get off easy with the ticket thing. I rarely have the ability to get into town during the daytime hours, and definitely not at a specific time, so I DO have to extend HUGE thanks to the rest of my Zumba posse. I also think that I need to thank them for putting up with me . . . as I can't imagine it's easy for them to admit that they know me, let alone admit that they are THERE with me as I dance and move like a peacock . . . or an elephant maybe? When class time arrives, there are clusters of people in the foyer quickly exchanging money and tickets. Much like a drug deal. Except with Zumba tickets. There are hopeful people milling about asking around quietly if anyone has an extra ticket they are willing to sell, and for those that DO have tickets, they offer them TOP dollar. Almost a bidding war. OK, actually . . . that's not quite true. In fact there is NO truth to that aspect, but it's fun to think about, isn't it? It's definitely not what happens, but it HAS given me an idea . . . I could become a Zumba class scalper. Buy up most of the tickets, then stand outside the rec centre in my trench coat selling them for top dollar. Oh yeah! Giddy up! Imagine the millions I could make!! Just kidding. I don't have the drive for that kind of business. I need to save my energy for the class itself.

The first class was a bit overwhelming. First and foremost, there were A LOT of people. It *ALMOST* felt as though every woman in the area was there. We were crammed into the room SO close together that I had a huge fear that I was going to knock the ever-loving life out of any of them remotely close to me. We started, and I DID hit a few, but they hit me too, so it was all even. It wasn't deliberate (well, I suppose it COULD have been on their part. I DID almost created a domino effect with the remainder of the row beside me and I'm sure that didn't humour everyone nearly as much as it did me and the woman I collided with). Then it got easier. Or maybe it was the fact that we moved to a bigger venue. Regardless of that, I wasn't running into and hitting others. AND? I was learning the moves. I COULD do this and not look completely like a fool. Well, until the instructor got a bit cheeky and started changing things up. A LOT. But change is good, and needed. And frustrating. BUT . . . as time passes, I learn the moves (or modify them to my flailing peacock in heat moves). Through it all, one very valuable lesson that I learned VERY quickly is that I can do the leg/footwork OR the arm work OR the hips, but never, EVER together. Or at least not in a co-ordinated and elegant way.

Elegant and co-ordinated. Definitely NOT words that one would use to describe my Zumba-ing abilities. Seriously . . . envision a peacock in heat. A red-faced, panting, sweaty peacock. That's me during a class. Scary isn't it?! Sorry . . . about the nightmare you're probably going to have tonight.

Since the New Year, I've found that the workouts have become WAY more intense. I can't decide if it's the instructor REALLY putting the boots to us, or if it's ME pushing myself further. Or maybe both. My self confidence has dramatically increased and I'm definitely putting more effort into it. Either way, I feel my workouts. Mentally I feel more stable - like a feeling of empowerment; a reminder that I *AM* taking control of this aspect of my life. I sweat from places I never knew were sweatable; my shirt, my pants (yes folks . . . I DID go out and specifically buy cute little (Ok, not "little", I DO have a big butt) workout capri's), my socks and my hair are DRENCHED. A few hours after the fact, my legs and arms start to ache, and by morning, I "hurt so good". And usually it IS the type of good hurt that reminds me that I'm accomplishing something with these classes.

Usually. Operative word.

Since the New Year, I've noticed that while my mind and butt (as well as my heart and lungs - but that's the scientific end of things and I don't want to maim the mindset that I think Zumba is more of a fun social outting as opposed to NECESSARY "exercise") NEED Zumba, my tailbone, hips and knees don't. More and more they're revolting about these classes. That's where the 'crunchy-ness' from the start of this post come from. My knees and my hips crunch. A LOT. Like a bowl of Rice Krispies; snap, crackle, pop. It's the kind of crunch that not only I can feel, but outsiders can HEAR it. Last night, I was definitely pushing the envelope by attending the class. I'd barely had time to recover from the intense workout on Tuesday. Wednesday left me sore and in pain. And not all in a 'good' way. I'm determined NOT to let my joint issues affect me and interfere with my quest for healthy living, so I try to just 'ignore' what's going on. Probably not a wise move. BUT . . . what can I do? I know that I need a knee AND hip replacement, but I've needed those since I was about 20 years old, and they just couldn't do it because I was 'too young'. Then my tailbone. I've been coping with the issues connected to that since the day I gave birth to my youngest over 6 years ago. The tailbone needs to be removed. Plain and simple. However, I'm still waiting for an appointment with the specialist. The referral has been in the hands of my NP/doctor for over a year. There are only a handful of surgeons that specialize in tailbone stuff, and it's a LONG wait to get in. SO . . . that leaves me in limbo. I can't let this stuff control my life, so I push through. Except the pushing is hurting. A LOT.

During class last night I felt a definite grind, pop and searing pain in my knee. It forced me to slow things down, but I kept at it, just modifying how much I did with my legs. How's THAT for dedication? I was definitely getting my $6 worth of ticket, right?! 'Cuz I'm kinda cheap like that. Eventually it swelled up enough that it was kind of numb, so I was back in business. Once I reach that point, I can keep on going, but when I stop - look out. And that's where I'm at this morning. My knee is a huge painful, swollen mess. I guess I overcompensated for my knee injury, so my hips and lower back are a mess. As I type this, I'm standing at the computer desk waiting for the Robaxacet and motrin to kick in.

And although I'm hurting today, I'm excited about going back next week. I SO love the whole experience of it. The 'game' and stress connected with getting tickets in the first place; then getting TO the rec centre with everything I need - water and shoes. Yes, I have indeed forgotten my shoes on more than one occassion. One time I went barefoot, and the next, my other half came to my rescue. While I COULD wear my boots - you know, nothing better than "exercisorels", but reality is it isn't much of a fashion statement, and we all know how up and up I am on THAT kind of stuff. And of course, the class itself; I love the laughs; I love the music; I love the comraderie. I love it all. Period. Oh, and I just might end up with a nice firm butt!!

And that folks, is a miracle. Exercise has been my enemy for pretty much my entire life.