Exercise has always been a part of my life. So has being an absolute klutz. If I am remembered for anything at all during my brief span of time upon our planet, it will be having discovered new and interesting ways of falling over. This has caused me considerable grief at the gym.
Second only to spontaneously getting my period in a myriad of cringe-inducing situations, falling down at the gym ranks as having provided some of my most embarrassing stories. I should give myself more credit for continuing to go back than I do, actually. Most sane people would've given it up years ago. But alas, I wage a constant war with my body and one of the only ways we keep the peace is through moderate amounts of exercise. It helps me keep perspective. I have to go to the gym to do this exercise, otherwise I'll just sit around my home eating pies.
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Because in addition to being a klutz I also have anti-social tendencies, I resolved a little while back to try and cure this behavior by becoming a bit of a joiner. Sure, I'd always used the machines and the pool at my gym, but I never took any of the classes. Maybe if I did something with other people I'd make new friends, and continue improving the way in which I relate to exercise. I'd make it less of a chore and more a "fun activity." Of course, it would be no all-day pie eating marathon, but I was sure it would have its own merits.
I'd heard all about Zumba from various people and thought that it might be a cool thing to try out. I'm not saying I harbored fantasies of being Baby from Dirty Dancing, but I'm not saying I didn't either. What if embracing my surely innate dance abilities is all that was keeping me from having, if you will, the time of my life? Never had I been more wrong.
I walked into the room for class, nervous but eager. I didn't say hello to everyone -- they all seemed paired up in their cliques already. Just as I started feeling like a 9 year old at a new school, the teacher came in. She closed the door and asked us all to go get our trampolines.
Yep. I was in the wrong class. Did I do what any sensible person would have done and fled? Nope. Instead, in a trance, I fetched my "urban rebounder", a personal trampoline, and pretended like this is something I did as regularly as brushing my teeth -- so twice a week, easily.
The class was advanced, and it was soon clear I wasn't. How could I tell? The fact that I mis-jumped, flipped the trampoline, beaned myself in the face, and fell on my ass definitely helped. Mortified and very much the center of attention, I excused myself to do some light stretching (aka: sobbing in the locker room) and never took another class at my gym again. So much for Zumba.
I regret that one major-league awkward moment kept me from taking another class. You should never let the perils of the new keep you from trying something exciting and different to spice up your workout life. That said, I don't feel like my workouts are lacking in anyway. In fact, the solititude of my time in the gym does more for my sense of well-being than a million trampolines ever could.
What's the most embarrassing thing that's ever happened to you at the gym?
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