Grad school, living in a winter suburban wonderland, and those strange lung issues I had last summer have left me rather out of shape and breathless. I am on the best and the strongest asthma and allergy meds, and still I am out of breath climbing the 4 flights of stairs at work. The bad news from the doctor was that maybe this new inability to exercise for more than 5 minutes at a time may be a permanent thing. I've decided, however, that enough is enough. I am taking matters into my own hands.
I need to exercise more to build endurance. This decision lead to even more issues, however. Where and how should I exercise? Also, will writing this blog finally teach me to consistently spell the word "exercise" correctly? I cannot go running out on the paths because I would start running, get out of breath, and then I'd be out in public all disgusting-like and gasping for air, unable to crawl back to the shelter and pravacy of my home. I thought that perhaps a yoga class would be the answer, but I grew increasingly more paranoid about that, too. I am by no means a calm person, nor am I physically flexible at all. I could only imagine a scenario where I joined a beginner's yoga class only to find that everyone else was way more advanced, way more flexible, way more chicly dressed in their hip, yoga clothes, and way more zen than I was. This would leave me shabby, embarrassed, and with an ever decreasing sense of self-worth. I decided that a yoga class was not the answer. Plus, I further convinced myself, my schedule does not allow for one more regulated time slot.
In a desperate attempt to exercise and shield myself from utter humiliation, I decided to purchase a yoga tape from Target. For a few weeks I dodged it. I intentionally "forgot" to go down that aisle and peruse the merchandise. Monday, I bit the bullet and started reading the backs of the dvd casses.
At first I was discouraged. All the women on the front of these cases were slim, muscular, blond, and wearing (in my opinion) not enough clothes. I want to exercise in raggedy old clothes that I wouldn't mind getting sweat stained. Also, no one wants to see me in a sports bra and tight pants clumsily attempting to contort into various relaxing yoga positions. The dismay began to set in again.
Just as I was about to call it quits, however, someone, perhaps St. Patrick since it is so close to his special day, or, dare I say it, God himself, shined a shiny light onto a dvd tucked away at the bottom. This particular dvd was also on sale. As a last resort, I bent over to see what it was. WHA-AT? The official Dirty Dancing workout video complete with real dance steps Patrick Swayze did and music from the original motion pictures? Even if I were not trying to get in shape in the privacy of my own bedroom, how could I NOT purchase this?
I bought it.
I have practiced with one and a half of the routines on this tape. It is taught half by this rather flamboyant man named Johnny and some overly-energetic, non-natural blond lady with a weird accent. I didn't catch her name, but in the opening credits, she carries in a watermelon and says something to the effect of, "No! I'm not baby!" Needless to say, I was hooked from the start.
My friend Johnny taught the coreography for the first routine to "Love Man". Johnny seems to have pretty low expectations for me. His steps are easy, repetitive, and we basically repeat the same sequence for the entire song. Johnny and I are getting along just fine.
Once I felt pretty confident with "Love Man", I thought I would move on to the routine for "Yes". This choreography is taught by the-woman-who-is-not-Baby. She seems to have much higher expectations for me. She doesn't repeat the steps enough, and I can't keep up! Also, she's got me running and moving around "to get that heart rate up", and she has clearly forgotten that I am doing this in the minimal space between my dresser and my bed. Also, she keeps giving me license to "make the moves sexy". Obviously she has never met me. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror trying to follow her direction, and it was pretty darn funny.
I think we're going to keep working together for a while longer until we can get kind of on the same page. I have little faith that I will ever be able to dance this workout routine the way she wants. I feel like I am almost a disgrace to actual steps from Dirty Dancing set to music from the original motion picture.
Maybe I should just stick with Johnny, the guy that just doesn't think I'm capable of any sort of coordination/physical activity/being sexy. He apparantly has met me before.
