Emotions rule. I abandoned my almost daily exercise routine to depression and stasis and paid the price in pounds and fortitude. I was huffing and puffing when I had bounded up stairs easily. What is hard-fought gain leaves so quickly. Days of plans made, plans broken. The irony that exercise has such a positive effect on those emotions we fight. You know what’s good for you and yet defy it.
I joined a club to use the machines and pool. Our sales guide touted programs for seniors. “I don’t want to hear about them,” I told him. But there are a slew of us seniors. Many of them make me feel like a teenager. They walk and sometimes roll to the recumbent bikes and treadmills and rowing machines. They are most often dressed in street clothes not planning to work up a sweat. I have to sweat. It’s my proof. But I guess that something is better than nothing. Just getting there is that positive emotion.
Diversification. Night 1 of Salsa 101. The men outnumber the women. I don’t have two left feet but mine are not yet a matching coordinated pair. I followed the instructor’s feet sometimes missing a beat while she watched all of us in the full-wall mirror that cannot be ignored. She is patient and helpful with the uneven mix of skill levels.
Will I give up? as the instructor said some will. Frustrated with uncoordinated feet that aren’t getting the message from the brain. 1• 2• 3• 4• 5• 6• 7• 8. No. Like toilet training for my grandson, I know the moment will come when you just get it. The moment in dance when the feet and body and brain quit fighting each other. It’s never really about being a natural. It’s about the grind and rote of practice. And then it will become about passion and love and pride. At least I dream so.