Adventures in Water Aerobics

Exercise. (insert disgusted sigh). I've never been one for running on a treadmill, lifting weights, ect, ect. I'm much better with organized sports (volleyball, woot, woot!) or fitness classes led by an instructor. The hospital has a fitness center affiliated with it and they offer several classes along with other services like personal training, nutrition counseling, acupuncture, and massages. With my back injury still causing trouble and being on restrictions since July of last year, I figured I'd better dip my toes back in the exercise pool slowly (pun intended). The water aerobics class fit with my work schedule and I figured why the hell not? Let the shenanigans begin.

My first class went a little something like this: First, find the locker room. Change quickly. Then, figure out the damn locking mechanism on the lockers. The guy who signed me up showed me, but like and idiot, I didn't listen thinking I could figure it out on my own. I am a college educated person, how hard could it be? After about 15 minutes of pushing buttons, slamming the door shut, and a few curse words, I finally got the thing locked. Now, I'm about to be late for the class. I rush down the hall to the pool, do the required quick shower before getting in the pool, and try to take in my fellow classmates. I realize that I didn't grab the appropriate aqua aerobic equipment: a giant white foam noodle and what the instructor called "buoys" (which in reality, were a foam version of a hand weight). When I got the bin to pick up my buoys, I discover there are different colors. I didn't know which to pick, so I randomly picked two matching colors. I found out later, these are the "heaviest," and generally not intended for rookies. I waddle my way back to the end of the pool, with my gear in tow.

Enter the instructor.
Blonde.
Skinny.
Pretty.
My worst nightmare.

With a microphone headset strapped to her head, she barks out over the sound system, "Let's MOVE!"

 Oh shit.

She's like the Jillian Michaels of water aerobics. Everyone in tandem, starts running to the other end of the pool. Yes, running. I join the pack and realize quickly, I can't run a treadmill efficiently let alone underwater. "FASTER! Pick up the pace! Come on, knees high," she shouts. Back and forth we go, mixing in random moves like jumping jacks and something she calls the "froggie," where you jump in the water like a frog. This move, in my mind, she uses solely as a tactic to make us look like complete morons. She proceeds to talk about a french dip she had for lunch. How sadistic is that, talking about food while people are working out. Now, when I packed for this assignment, I figured I would need a swimming suit for the beach, not for working out. I actually don't own a one piece swimming suit, so I had my tankini with board shorts along. I learned that for this type of class, you need a one piece suit, no matter how unflattering. While doing my "froggie" jumps, the top of my suit would fly up while the board shorts gave me a wedgie of epic proportions. Graphic, I know, but it adds to the story, trust me.

About halfway through the class I realize I'm one of the most uncoordinated people ever. Jillian is having us to the grapevine across the pool. Hell, I can't do the grapevine on land and make it look good. There is a row of tiles on the bottom of the pool that runs the length. I found out quickly this part is a bit slippery. While grapevining, I slipped and totally face planted into the water. I pop back up, hoping no one has seen this and keep moving. It is at this point in the class that I discover the bottoms of my feet are totally raw. If I ever find the idiot who decided to put that much texture on the bottom of the pool, I'm going to beat them silly with my foam noodle.

Now it is time for us to use our "buoys." I know this because blondie has shouted out, "BUOYS EVERYONE!" My contempt for this woman continues to grow. We take the buoys and do a move called the ab roller. In essence, you float on your back, then pull your feet and legs underneath and behind you, then reverse the motion. In the end, this move made me look like a drunken dolphin. Water up my nose, ass in the air, and a general look of disdain on my face. Yeah, not pretty.

At this point, Jillian seems to think we've suffered enough torture and tells the class we're done and claps with a big smile on her face. I'm thinking, what the hell are you clapping about, you didn't do a damn thing! We all form a line to exit the pool and as I turned to deposit my noodle back in the bin, I totally smacked the instructor with the very wet noodle. Ha! Total "accident." 'In the end, I had quarter size blisters on my toes, eyes red from the chlorine, and a new appreciation for my lack of coordination. I learned to love the instructor, bought a one piece suit and some water shoes. Now, I wouldn't miss this class each week!