mirrors, zombies and Elvis

I never really fit in at fitness clubs.

Three months ago, I bought a temporary, discounted membership to one. I threw myself into their zumba classes but it took me a month to actually try out any of the scary exercise equipment.

I don't seem to know anyone at the club, which is a feat in itself in this tiny city. People don't make eye contact. They come in, plug in their headphones and do their training without interacting with anyone.

I'm an introvert myself and not much for making sparkling conversation when I fall into an exhausted puddle after the abs machine. But this atmosphere of muscle-obsessed zombies staring at the wall seems slightly creepy. Then I can better understand the joggers out on the beach walk.  As soon as the worst of the winter cold and ice are gone, I'm heading out there myself.

The zumba classes are better - at least you get a smiling instructor shouting cheerful encouragement at you. Our main zumba instructor starts out with the latin music but then throws in a lot of hiphop and reggaeton, even classic rock. She has lavender-coloured hair and sometimes forgets that not all of us are professional dancers like herself, but I dig her music. Yesterday we had a substitute who obviously liked the more danceable side of country & western. She was also heavily pregnant. I'm surprised to report that I had fun.

The best part of this fitness club is in fact the dance room. Floor-to-ceiling mirrors on two walls ( I avoid looking in that direction, there are always some wildly swinging limbs and uncoordinated movements that seem to be mine ) and large windows overlooking a busy city street.

I can pretend I'm in a  professional dance studio in Brooklyn, N.Y.  Gives me a much-needed boost of motivation when I'm wheezing after those crazy jumps to Elvis's "Hound Dog".