It started Sunday night when I finally watched the TurboJam DVDs I checked out from the library. TurboJam is the same thing as TurboKick, a fitness workout developed by Chalene Johnson in 1997 that incorporates kickboxing and dance moves. I took a class last year as part of a community education program, but I haven’t been since because the drive was too far. As I was bobbing around in front of my computer to the DVDs, I realized two things. First, it’s amazing how much more floor space I have around my computer than between my TV and my sofa. Second, exercise used to be so much fun! Fun! That’s what I’ve been missing! Bouncing around on the carpet learning a new routine stimulated my mind and forced me to think and concentrate in a way I haven’t had to when I’ve been running or doing the same old Pilates routine. Ironically, being stuck in a rut caused me to start losing my groove.

As I was watching the video, I was rather impressed with everyone’s physique. After watching the pitch they make on the DVD, I’m sure the marketing plan for TurboJam lists one of the main selling points as weight loss. They stressed that a lot in the ads and on the background featurettes, showing at least two exercisers who’d lost up to 50 pounds. While that’s great, I wish they’d actually shown some of those overweight people doing the routines. In all the footage of events at the beach and other places, they only showed the thin “after” people and not the fatter “before” people. I realize they’re selling an image and pushing the end results, but if people are really losing all this weight on TurboJam I’d like to see them as they’re doing it, not just afterwards.

I checked the Y’s class schedule and lucky for me a TurboKick class was scheduled at 6:30 last night. I got a bit lost on my way home, in a bad neighborhood, at twilight – but I have obviously lived to tell the tale. Behind schedule, I rushed in the door, fed my cat, changed my clothes and raced to the Y in lightly snow-covered streets without sliding into a ditch. Then I got to the parking lot. It was full. Damn those bastards who all join up in January! Oh wait, that’s me. I guess it was my own damn fault the lot was full. Sorry! I pulled around a long aisle and slipped into the last free spot before dashing into the Y and bounding upstairs to the classroom. The stairs are right next to the main entrance, before you enter the security gate, and no one even checked my pass. So, if you are an unethical person who is willing to rip off charitable Christian organizations for free aerobics classes, this might be the gym for you!

As I walked in the room I saw a woman with a battery pack belted around her waist doing audio checks on a microphone headset. She was fat. Not just overweight, but probably obese by BMI standards. And she was the instructor. My first thought? Awesome! I know some gyms don’t like to have overweight fitness instructors because they think it sends a bad image, but my philosophy is that if you can lead the workout then it doesn’t matter how fat you are. If you can do the job, you have every right to do it. And she did. She led an hour-long workout, calling out instructions the whole time. I admired her a lot because I doubt I would have been fit enough to complete that routine when I was her size. I doubt my knees would have been up to it either. If anything, I think it sets a good example because it shows overweight women that they can exercise and be in shape too.

I was glad I’d taken my previous TurboKick class though, because my instructor there went over basic form techniques, explained common moves and warned me about the Turbo sessions when the music speeds up and you double-time everything for a couple minutes. If I’d just wandered into this class off of the street, I’d probably have thrown my coat and hat back on after 10 minutes in frustration and confusion.

I did like that this class was held in a real studio and not a school gym like my old class. I was able to see myself in mirrors all around the room and check my form. I realized that when I’m standing straight up, I fell like I’m leaning backwards. This is probably why some people have critiqued my posture in my progress photos. I’m so used to tilting forward that it feels like I’m standing straight. I’ll have to work on that.

As I was looking at myself in those mirrors, I couldn’t help but think, “I look so great.” It’s been odd looking in mirrors this past week and a half since I’ve stopped weighing myself. Sometimes I’ll check the size of my tummy and my butt and think, “Oh God, have I gained weight?” Other times I’ll look and think, “No, I still look fine.” Seeing myself in motion in the YMCA classroom,as I was kicking and jumping and punching in mediocre form, I thought, “It’s so awesome that I can do this. I look awesome.” And I really believed it. I have no idea what I weigh right now, and as long as I can find fun in being fit (and my pants still fit), I can say I honestly don’t care.

This was the first aerobics class I’ve ever taken and overall the experience was positive. I enjoyed punching and kicking and flailing around trying to learn the routines. But I don’t think I will sign up for this particular class again because the drive to the location was too far. I got to experience some of the aerobics class clichés – the perky instructor, the husband begrudgingly dragged along by his wife, the girl whose tendons were replaced by silly putty and could stretch her legs back behind her head, and the clique of girls who signed up for the class together. Sometimes as I watched the instructor demonstrate moves on the stage, I imagined she was a video game character in a martial arts title like Tekken 3. I imagined myself rapidly mashing my control pad to control her movements. All that was missing were some sound effects to accompany her kicks and blocks. Pow! Blam!

Mostly I enjoyed that I could simply keep up. Several years ago I tried doing an exercise tape at home and ended up stopping it about 7 minutes in, exhausted before the warm-up was even through. So I found particular joy that I could get through the whole routine and all the abs work at the end while some other people were flopping around on their mats like trout on a the deck of a fishing boat.

Next up: Tennis lessons! I’ve never played tennis in my life, but now I figure I’m fit enough to try. And I get to wear a cute skirt, right? Lessons don’t start until July, so I have a month and a half off to just enjoy my running, weights and Pilates. I plan to keep trying new sports and activities though, for infinity onwards. If I let myself get bored I’m doomed to slack off and gain back the weight. So, by God, I’m going to keep myself challenged and entertained even if it means letting people hurl green, fuzzy balls at my face.

My kickboxing instructor seems to be sick or injured. Perhaps she got into a fight with someone with a better right hook than her. Two weeks ago I picked up the phone to hear the automated voice of an auto-dialer telling me class had been canceled. This week we had a – duh, dun, duh – substitute teacher. Perhaps my instructor is not injured at all, but just wants us to appreciate us more. Maybe she sent in a sub so we’d see how good we’ve got it with her.

The class I’m taking is called Turbo Kick, which is basically a franchise. Instructors have to buy specific Turbo Kick CDs and learn the routines that goes with that music. There is a structure to the workout which includes a warm-up, punches and kicks, a turbo session that is really fast paced, a cool down and some ab work.

The sub took us through a kickboxing aerobic workout, but it was not Turbo Kick. It was Turbo Boring. I’d been a bit frustrated during the first 6 weeks of this class because it’s been difficult for me to learn the complicated routines, especially since I have a low body intelligence. I’m not a dancer, I can’t mimic and learn a routine quickly just by watching someone. There is no mirror in the gym where we exercise, but I’m sure I quite frequently look like a mime being attacked by fire ants. You’d think I’d like the simpler routine the sub led us through

Only I didn’t. I kept checking the clock, which I’d never done before. I guess I like a challenge. I constantly have to think during Turbo Kick, but throughout the sub’s routine my mind was wandering like a drunken bum in the market district. It eventually stumbled over the thought, “If people try doing exercise that is this boring, no wonder they quit and go back to doing laps around the drive-through window.”

This wasn’t the sub’s fault. She wasn’t a Turbo Kick instructor and it seemed like she had probably been called at the last minute and had to throw something together. There were some good things about the session too. Because she was doing simpler routines I got to focus on her form more and I think I improved my technique. She also counted down how many more reps of a move we were doing, “8…7….6…” which was helpful because it prepared me for when a switch-up was coming.

She also gave us a bit more personal attention than the other instructor. About 20 minutes into class she started to head my direction. Suddenly I was back in band class, clutching my flute as Mr. Robinson pointed to me and said “PastaQueen, could you please play the four bars at the top of page two?” I put my lips to my mouthpiece and blew out a high-pitched trail of aural diarrhea. “Why don’t you sit that section out, okay?” he said as I shrunk to the size of a pea pod with cheeks the colors of tomatoes. And then I was back in the elementary school gym and the instructor was showing me how to properly time the upper body twist and knee raise. I appreciated that she was showing me how to do the move properly without injuring myself, but OHMYGOD iz soooooo embarrassing, I wanna die!

However, all my exercising in public this past year and running on the trail in a tank top despite my flabby arms etc. etc. has made me grown accustomed to the fact that sometimes I will simply look ridiculous and that’s just that. Everyone gets to play the dummy sometimes. When I had to inflate my flat tire two weeks ago, I couldn’t figure out how to use the air pump at the gas station, though it was a fairly simple mechanism. But I just decided “Today, I will play the part of the idiot girl who cannot inflate her tires and I will simply ask the gas station attendant to show me how.” And that’s okay. It’s impossible to try new things without looking like a dumbass occasionally. So, I doubt I have a future as an aerobics instructor, but I also refuse to be shamed by the fact that I need simple moves demonstrated to me.

We also did some back raise thingys that killed my abs. Killed them dead. There was a funeral with flowers and prayer cards and everything. They were sore for two days afterwards. So it wasn’t a total loss. Still, I hope my instructor’s boo-boos are all healed my next week.

ETA: Oh, by the way, I did an interview over at DailyPowerWalk.com in case you all aren’t sick of hearing me blather on about health and fitness yet.

I was also pissed at another attendee in class, a guy who seemed to be dragged there by his wife or girlfriend. I imagine she talked him into it by saying kickboxing was a manly, macho thing where he’d get to grunt and kick things. He must have been very disappointed when halfway through class our instructor told us to shake our booty and yell “Whoo!” There was one point when the instructor got lost and had to stop until the next 8 bar cycle to jump back in. About half the class got lost and stopped too, like a giant game of Simon Says where Simon was a mute. This guy took this as an opportunity to stand and pout with his arms crossed. He then walked to the side of the gym right next to me and continued pouting loudly until the next water break. I really wanted to sock him one.

I’m empathetic if the class was not as enjoyable as he’d hoped it’d be and he wasn’t having a good time. I can also understand if he was mad that the instructor got lost. But standing around pouting like that was so rude. It’s important to keep the energy level up during an aerobics class or it’s not as much fun. It’s like the vibe at a really good concert that you can never replicate with a DVD at home. You have to give as well as take. His crossed arms and beady glare were committing theft of our energy high, just like that hacker who stole my password. A risky move on his part, since I was only two yards away and have very little control over my roundhouse kick.

After the water break he joined back in, but I hope he either doesn’t show up next time or seriously retunes his attitude. Or else one of these days I really am going to end up punching somebody.

The yoga class ahead of us was running 10 minutes late, so everyone congregated in the hallway of the elementary school the class is held in. I can’t recall the last time I was in an elementary school, but, wow, I do not miss that government institutionalized look. Just being in a building like that reminded me of the time as a child when adults have complete say over what you do. Walking through the cafeteria on the way in brought back similar sensory memories of bad food and weird smells and annoying classmates. If someone had handed me a lunch tray, I might have had a full flashback to 5th grade food fights and gone catatonic.

As I was sitting there on the hard, compact carpet, thankfully not rocking myself back and forth due to post-traumatic elementary school trauma, I wondered if anyone had actually checked if the door was open. I remember a couple times in high school we’d all get back from lunch and loiter in the hallway outside the door only to discover the teacher had left it unlocked. Of course I fulfilled my part in proving humans are pack animals by being too timid to actually check the door or ask anyone about it. Eventually a girl poked her head in and saw all the yoga students* doing their final rest in a dimly lit gym. Once they exited, we got to start our class.

I did pretty well, especially considering I’ve never done a group aerobics class before. I’d run through a video tape or two at home, but I’ve never belonged to a gym and we never did tapes in PE. This was actually an activity I preferred doing with other people because when other peopled effed up the choreography I felt far less inferior than I would have otherwise, like a Cro-Magnon instead of slime that had just crawled out of the ocean. A lot of people were better at the choreography than me either because they’d been to the Thursday class as well (cheaters!) or they’d taken kickboxing before. But I kept up fairly well, though my definition of “left” and “right” are clearly more flexible than other people’s. This will no doubt eventually lead to an uppercut to my chin.

We only did half a workout because the instructor needed to teach us basic moves, but I was able to survive without collapsing on the shiny wooden floor or being TKO’ed or even KO’ed. I was rather proud that I was not exhausted and there were clearly people there who were more out of shape than me. The last time I was in a school gym I was obviously the poorest athlete in the crowd and now I’m sitting in the middle of the bell curve. It was a nice change of pace, but I need to be more careful about moving my body with the punches and kicks. I tend to want to plant my body still, which will only lead to knee injuries.

*ETA: This originally said “yoga nuts,” but I changed it because the yoga people were offended. I wasn’t trying to use the term “yoga nuts” in a derogative way. I would classify myself as a “Pilates nut” and probably a “health nut” too. And I like nuts a lot, especially cashews. So don’t hate on me, yoga-philes! I may not understand your culture, but I mean you no harm. I guess you only get to use the term “nut” if you are a part of the group you are calling nutty. Since I’m a cashew and not a pistachio, I’ll refrain from using this phrase again.