Posted at 07:53 AM in discomfort in the face of comfort, Food and Drink, play the muted trumpet | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
I stood among 200 competitors in a 5K/10K race on Saturday. A race this small only demands a spray painted line on the street and the race director making announcements on a bullhorn.
Posted at 04:26 PM in Current Affairs, play the muted trumpet | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBack (0)
Workout plan for this past week: Speed/Agility Class-Tuesday 5:30AM. Strength Training-Wednesday 5:30AM. Speed/Agility-Thursday 5:30AM. Friday off.
Tuesday, 4:45AM.
I drag myself out of bed to put on my workout clothes then eat something before class. I get around to putting gym clothes on my body with blurry eyes, then start the coffee. I watch the coffee brew for about half a minute. I decided to spend time checking email while the oldest addiction in my personal history is brewing.
Ian wakes up screaming about 4:50AM. Class must be scrapped.
Wednesday, 4:50AM.
After hitting the alarm four times, I find a way to get out of bed: coffee. I'll make a pot. I'll have a cup. I was up a couple times with our sick two-year-old Ian. He found his way to our bed to sleep. He was still sleeping as my black gold trickled into the glass pot. I figured I could just check email while I waited.
Our bedroom door slowly opens and it's Ian. He's coming out saying, "Daddy. Diego." His signal that he wants to watch "Go, Diego, Go." I put him on the couch, turn his show on and give him a toddler cup full of milk.
I rustle Jeni awake and tell her I have to go to the gym soon and Ian's awake. She gets up and showers. I leave for the gym--running a bit late.
After about ten minutes, I return home. On my entrance back into the house, I explain to Jeni, "I forgot my gym shoes." This time of year, you have to wear snow boots and carry your gym shoes. I forgot to perform the second part. Being late and forgetting gym shoes and leaving Jeni flying solo with Ian was my signal to just stay home.
Thursday, 4:53AM.
The alarm must have gone off a record seven times this morning. I had just enough time to make a small pot of coffee. We only had enough time & grounds for a four cup pot.
It's 5:05AM and no Ian. Jackpot. I slink into the bedroom and tell Jeni, "I'm headed out."
"Isn't Ian awake?"
"No."
"Good." She whispers.
I got to the gym and Scott the trainer is there welcoming people and checking them into class. He looks surprised as I enter, "Steve, what are you doing here?"
"I know I've been gone all week."
I begin to speed by until Scott stops me with the comment, "You know that we've changed our class for the day to Zumba? It's a dance exercise class."
There are two times when I dance. One scenario is drunk at an immediate relative's wedding. The other scenario is when a beautiful woman is involved.
"Who's teaching this?" I ask Scott. I was ready to turn around and go home.
"Danielle."
Danielle. Young gal with a great body. Awesome smile. What guy would say, "I don't want to watch her dance."..?
I think a moment on it, "I guess I could try it out." I walk on and I'm greeted by the ten or so women who are flooding into this class. They know me by name.
"Steve, I saw your car out front and I just had to laugh."
"Steve? You're the last guy I'd expect to see here."
"Do you know we're having Zumba today, Steve?"
All of those greetings should have been clear indicators that I should leave but Danielle came out in a bright red tight tank top and off white tight pants. She was excited about this class. You could tell by the big grin on her face and the way she explained what this class was about.
"We'll be dancing to the beat and simply following what I do." She motions and explains, "In Brazil, they teach Zumba by dancing in a line." I didn't hear much more than that before she launches into the dance of the Zumba.
I tried to follow along. She would tap to the beat and face the palms down, pointed left. Then pointed right. Left. Right Left Right Left. Then introduce a prance forward and sashay, then prance back. Tap to the beat, then palms down, fingers pointing left then right. Left then right.
She and I were in stark contrast among this crowd. Seeing her dance was great. But like many little mental tricks, it only was a red herring for my disgusting mis-steps, off tempo moves and lost sashays. In addition, my backwards Cubs hat and four day beard was a peculiar look for a Zumba student.
The song finds an end and a few women slink over to the water. I follow and continue onto the locker room to get my coat and leave.
Posted at 02:26 PM in play the muted trumpet | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBack (0)