Yesterday afternoon, I had a discussion with my brother and his fiancé about the boredom that was beginning to seep into my workouts.  A couple of years ago when I began working out regularly, running a few miles on the treadmill was enough to change my body.  About a year ago, I realized that running was not enough to shape up, so I added a cardio lifting circuit that my brother recommended.  It was incredibly effective, and I was looking fit within a few months.  At this point, however, neither of these suffice.  My body has adapted to these workouts, and doesn’t respond as much anymore.  I decided that I wanted to try something different, but wasn’t sure what exactly I should do.  Alexis recommended trying a class at my gym, and thus this morning I rolled out of bed with one goal in mind: ‘cardio sculpt’ at 9:15.

I was looking forward to working with medicine balls and hand weights, kind of like Jillian Michaels’ 30 Day Shred.  Little did I know that “cardio sculpt” actually implied something completely different.   Nowhere in the description of the class did it say “crazy step aerobics class for advanced steppers.”  By the time I realized my mistake, it was too late; everyone had already welcomed me to the class, thrown a few hand weights at me, and rolled a medicine ball over.  As we started the basic up-down step (I’m sure it has a name…), the instructor looked around at the class and must have noticed the panicked look on my face.  “Do we have any newbies in the class?”  I raised my hand.  “Do we have anybody who is new to stepping?”  I raised my hand.  30 women looked at me, shaking their heads as if to say, oh boy, she doesn’t know what she’s getting herself into.

I’ll show them, I thought.  Nodding my head, pumping my fists and lifting those knees high, I was ready to roll.  Then out of nowhere, the 30 women plus instructor began doing the most insane moves.  My jaw dropped as they began L stepping, sashaying and cartwheeling over and around their steps, arms and legs flailing every which way in an apparently controlled motion.

I stumbled out of the room an hour later, sweaty, confused and determined.  Whether or not this determination was directed toward mastering step aerobics or never to set foot in a step class again, I’m still not really sure.