I have been going to the gym for the past month and a half. I don’t have a personal trainer or a schedule, but do a bit of interval training and some strength, with inputs from the gym trainers. Lately the trainers have been goading me to check out their Zumba sessions, which come free with the membership. I wasn’t too keen for a variety of reasons, the foremost being, I am the most inelegant woman you could know. Secondly, the sessions are at six in the evening, and the traffic at that time is a killer. In any case, I buckled under and decided to check it out today.
I enter the gym and the receptionist tells me to go to the second floor for the session. I walk two flight of stairs, which I count towards warm up, and peep into the room that seems occupied. There is a friendly-like trainer and five trainees – two women and three rather muscular men. Do men do Zumba? I chide myself for being sexist and join them for stay-jogs, butt kicks and such like for eternity. Finally we stop and I catch the breath that had gone for a stroll.
“Now we begin the session” our trainer guy says.
The music starts. Ah, Zumba, finally.
“A cycle of training consists of ten push ups, ten crunches and fifteen squats. Three continuous cycles, followed by a one minute break, to be repeated for 20 minutes.”
One of the three women left for the zumbha in the opposite room. This was crossfit training. Some people have an ego the size of Kilimanjaro to follow the third girl across the hall.
If I don’t write tomorrow, it is probably because my arms fell off.