Dancing to the beat of my own drum

I think I'm about to die and something called Zumba is responsible. Send the police. And an ambulance, or at least some smelling salts and perhaps a wheelchair or two.

I haven't worked out in a while. A. long. while. And, tonight, I decided it was time to lace up the old sneakers again and head to the gym. It's a new gym, or at least a new spin on an old one. I belonged (and worked for) LA Fitness, formerly Canadian Bodyworks (only the best gym EVER), since early 2000. Some of you will know that I used to be a gym fanatic. I was obsessed. Every day for over seven years, I would head to the gym after work for at least a two-hour workout. Weights, cardio, classes - I did it all and did it with passion.

So, tonight, after a stint of not going to the gym, I stepped through the doors to participate in my very first Zumba class. I had the rhythm though not the stamina yet, but I made it through with no stops. Okay, I stopped once because I mis-stepped, but otherwise I was a proud Zumba-enthusiast.

People, it was fun. I've never laughed so hard, especially when my friend Zumba-ed into a cloud of stench left behind by the lady beside her. She screamed. I laughed and then missed the next two steps. I soon caught up and I was mamboing and screwing in the light bulb and sewing the seeds with the rest of them.

Zumba is a combination of latin, African and Indian dances, all to upbeat music. It's cardio-plus. The plus is the fun. Now, for the rhythmically challenged, it may seem daunting (just ask my friend), but the laughs and energy levels are contagious. I used muscles I didn't think I had, and I know my waist and calves will be on life support tomorrow (and maybe even the day after). But...

I will do it again. Next week. Until then, it's wheelchairs and muscle relaxants, or at least a good massage or five. I will also head back to the gym for other things, a date with the elliptical machine being one of them.