STEP UP!

I took an Advanced Step Aerobics class yesterday in my neverending qwest to shed that pesky ten pounds that follow me everywhere I go.  I had not been in a step aerobics class in three years.  But how hard could it be?  I reasoned.  Confidently, I entered the class and chose my Reebok Step.

The aerobics instructor, a fortiesh blonde with a gifted sense of smelling fresh meat, asked me through her microphone if I was certain that I wanted a step that high.  I assured her, with a condescending smile, that I could handle it.  In fact, I had never used a Reebok Step before and had no idea how to adjust the risers.  I had always used The Step, which was also available, but I wanted to be different.  I wanted a challenge.

Five minutes into the warm up a bell started to sound in my hear.  Quiet, at first, then it grew a little louder.  Was that really my quadricep throbbing?  Was that really a bead of sweat forming on my raised-with-concern forehead?  After the warm-up, I ran to my water bottle and sucked down water and air as quickly as I could without making myself seem too obvious.  Again, through the microphone, the instructor asked me about the height of my step.  Meekly, my confident smile vanquished, my lifted chest deflated, I replied, "No.  I'll change it."  The instructor moved with the speed of a cougar.  She traversed the obstacle course of the classroom and made her way to the corner I was tucked safely away in.  With the agility of a ninja, she changed my risers, dusted off her hands and began the class.

I was pleased to discover that my body had instant recall.  The moves were like an old friend to me.  I moved to the beat and blended nicely.  Fifteen minutes into the class, the "Advanced" part of the Advanced Step Aerobics class began to kick in.  Remembering Susan Powter's old edict, I modified, modified, modified and stuck to my basic right step while the show-offs stepped around me.  Thirty minutes into the class, I was so hopelessly lost I found myself standing alone in the middle of the room, praying for the clock to speed up.  It didn't.

When the class mercifully drew to an end, I felt compelled to apologize to the instructor for my lack of coordination, skill and grace.  But I didn't.  Instead, I committed to myself to be at the same place at the same time next week.  As Elbert Hubbard once said, "There is no failure except in no longer trying."