Some years ago I attended an aerobics class with my neighbor Alice. It was something we could do together while our daughters were in school, and besides we both wanted to get in better shape. Classes were held at the local roller rink, and we went at least twice a week.
I think most of the women who attended were stay-at-home moms. When we all began, most of us wore our tee shirts and baggy shorts. As the weeks went by and we got in better shape, I noticed more and more of us daring to wear leotards – still covered with shorts, of course.
I like the movement and the music of the class. I always thought I was a klutz, but I could manage those moves. We did warm-ups that gradually moved into pretty strenuous stuff, and then did nice easy moves to cool down. Sometimes I even imagined myself to be graceful.
It can’t hurt to dream.
During the height of each routine we were really working hard. I swear our instructor used to be a drill sergeant in the Army. She was always so bright and chipper and unflagging, until some days I thought I could take her little leotard and stuff it down her skinny throat. Even when she grunted during a strenuous routine, she sounded so cute. My grunts sounded like…well, grunts.
I’m sure a lot of folks are self-motivated, but I’m not one of them. If I’m left on my own, I won’t do it. The exercise tapes I own just take up space on a shelf. I needed the encouragement of a schedule and a class to attend. Alice and I encouraged each other, and prodded each other to keep trying when one of us was feeling lazy.
After about eight weeks, I had lost ten pounds. I just wanted to get toned up, I didn’t even think about weight loss. That was really exciting! The hard routines were still hard, but I was really motivated once I started losing weight.
I figured that the exercise might kill me, but at least I’d be in great shape for my funeral.
(Dallas Morning News Neighbors 11-12-05)
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