My friend texted me this morning. “The Zumba class taught by my friend is free and we can go as non-members. Wanna come with me this morning?”
I was on my own for the day and I've never experienced Zumba, so I jumped at the opportunity. An hour later, we were headed to class.
I wasn't prepared for all the mental things I would confront as I worked to keep up. I kept moving and found myself formulating the key points of this post to the loud beats of the music.
You can take the girl out of ballet, but apparently you cannot take the ballet out of the girl. Zumba arm movements are not ballet, but for the life of me I couldn't stop making them. Thankfully, I was in the back of the class and it was so full that much of the time I couldn't see myself in the mirror. I had flashbacks of my ballet classes when I was learning a new combination and couldn't quite get it. Today, as I did back then, I caught myself mentally shutting down. As in meditation, each time I noticed that inclination, I brought myself back to the steps and kept moving with less judgment. The class progressed and in a sign of gentleness to my self, I concentrated on the footwork and let go of the arms. That helped.
The strongest impressions I had to work through were my perfectionism—I wanted to get the steps exactly right every time—and how out of place I felt as a skinny body in this class. What a strange moment to realize that the thing that brings many of the women to a class like this—their curves—are the things I'm lacking. Everyone around me was sweating. Since fans were blowing, I kept my long sleeve running shirt on the entire 90 minutes. That reminded me of playing t-ball in the heat of Kansas summers when I was eight. The team would run laps around the field to warm up and everyone else would be sweating, but not me. I thought it was the coolest thing to sweat—it was a sign you'd done the work.
I estimate that I spent the first hour of the class over-thinking the steps and the perfectionism and skinniness. I finally decided that using this morning as an opportunity to try something new and to feel playful in my body was a better use of my mental energy. I also celebrated the friendship I have with the friend boogie-ing next to me. She loves Zumba and enjoyed every minute of the well-led class. I was grateful that I was with her—we know each other so well, there was no need to feel self-conscious next to her. I knew she wasn't judging or ridiculing me. She was too busy dancing her heart out.
In moments like this, I can't help but think of my 40/40 list and the space it created for me to sample new things. I don't see myself seeking out Zumba regularly, but it was a great class and I am really glad I did it. I am also really grateful to be faced with the mental habits that still get me tangled up, and to see that with practice, they don't have the same vice grip on me as they have in the past. This is progress.