Workout #29
I have been trying to get to Cardio Hip Hop since joining this gym back in July, and tonight was my night.
Description of the class from the class catalog: “Cross the line between aerobics and dance with this straight-forward funky, hip-hop, street dance class. Movements are mostly low impact and beginners are welcome.”
Duration: One hour
Class size: There were only 3 people when this class first started, but luckily 5 more arrived over the next few minutes. There was still nowhere to hide though.
What I thought going into it: I was pretty sure that this class would be a struggle for me. I have no rhythm, no natural dance ability, and I am a walking loaf of whitebread. What could go wrong?
What happened during class: I brought da funk, and then the funk said “See ya later, sucka,” and that’s when all the trouble started.
The instructor started by demonstrating what this routine would look like when it was through, and I was skeptical that anything I could turn out would look anything like that. Still, I held my own for a brief period of time, a few minutes perhaps, as she broke it down into more digestible segments.
We performed each nugget of the choreography enough times in order to become more comfortable with it, and then we added on another segment, and then another. Ideally, as you are adding on piece after piece there is an opportunity to perfect the beginning moves as the class progresses. Ideally. I found that I was getting the first few sequences down, and having an average time adding some extra things to that, but somewhere along the way, near the half way point, the wheels came off and I was in over my head. I was hopping to the right when the rest of the class was brushing it off to the left. I was turning in a half circle when everyone else was doing a slide. I was planted to the floor, shakin’ what my momma gave me (and believe me, she didn’t give me much), when the others were strutting it towards the mirrors. Would I ever get this? Sadly, no, I would not. I was marginal, at best, when the instructor was directly in front of me and I could copy her swagger directly. When she went to the corner of the room and I had an unobstructed view of myself in the mirror, well, that was the beginning of the end.
At the point when there was perhaps fifteen minutes left in the class, two teenagers joined the group on a lark and managed to not only instantly pick up the complicated routine, but the one kid was also able to add his own salt n peppa to the mix. Show off.
How I felt afterward: like the goof that I am.
Workout confidence level: non-existent, but I’ll be back. Nothing pisses me off more than being incapable of doing something. It might take years, but I will not be bested by Hip Hop. “Word.”
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