July 4, 2012 by Kat Richter
With The Wedding Date still alive and our cruise to Bermuda just a month and a half away, I decided to accompany my mother to the Y yesterday for a back-to-back combo of Zumba and Body Pump. Unfortunately the Zumba teacher didn’t show up so it ended up being back-to-back elliptical and Body Pump and there are few things I hate more than the elliptical, especially when said elliptical happens to be in a small, crowded, windowless room full of sweaty folk and their obnoxious children running around and occasionally on the treadmills.
But The Wedding Date goes running at least three times a week. And now he’s doing push-ups and I’m nothing if not competitive (especially when it comes to bathing suit season) so I forced myself onto the machine for a 30-minute cardio session.
Eight minutes in, I got a cramp. I persevered, however, because the best thing about cruising with Royal Caribbean is the food and according to my rather twisted calculations concerning the benefits of pre-emptive exercise, the more I work out now the more I’ll be able to eat later.
I completed my 30 minutes on the elliptical and headed downstairs for Body Pump. For those of you unfamiliar with the various forms of torture that gyms try to pass off as “fitness classes” Body Pump is like Zumba except the music is nearly good and you don’t get to dance. You have to lift weights instead— scary, manly looking weights. In fact, now that I think about it, it’s really nothing like Zumba.
I hated every minute of it. And I was using the wimpiest weights available! Every once in a while the instructor would get all pumped up and shout “Way to go team!” or “Great job front line!” Having sampled my fair share of fitness classes over the years, I have found that the enthusiasm of the instructors is directly proportional to how much the work out is going to suck: the more they cheer, the more it hurts so when Mr. Body Pump heaved his barbell up to his chest and shouted “How are we feeling???” it was all I could do to keep from shouting, “How are we feeling? Are you kidding me? I am feeling bad. Very, very bad. And I am never coming to Body Pump again.”
Except my mom, who has been doing Body Pump since October, has progressed beyond the wimpiest weights available. She’s made it into the medium-sized weights and what’s more she made it through the entire class without whining (unlike Yours Truly). This means I’m going to have to go back, if only to not get shown up by a middle-aged woman…
And on that note, it times for a well-deserved everything bagel slathering in cream cheese. Happy 4th, folks.