Zumba Goals

 Hi there, “Gods Are Bored” fans! I’m here today to sing the praises of Zumba.

Yes, you heard that right. Zumba. It’s either the place where young, nubile cheerleaders go to get their cardio, or the place where sagging senior citizens go to try to keep their hearts working at all. Or both.

They say that you need to do something regularly for six months in order for it to become a habit. I’ve been doing Zumba since the pandemic, so it qualifies as a habit. (During quarantine I did online classes.)

No doubt you know what Zumba is, but here’s a quick definition nevertheless. Zumba is a form of aerobic exercise that uses Indian and Latin music to encourage vigorous flailing of limbs and stomping more or less to a beat. The studio I go to is dark except for disco lights (perfect), and the music is deafening (also perfect). Nobody can see you fuck up, and nobody can hear you groan. Although Zumba instructors always tell the newcomers that nobody judges you …. pffffft! Of course you’re being judged! Especially if you reserve someone else’s favorite spot! There are whole cliques who go out for drinks together after class! If you don’t want to be judged, you better arrive late and stay in the back by the door.

Zumba instructors use the same songs over and over again, only introducing a new routine about once every 8 weeks. This means the regulars and the cliques learn the routines, and the newbies often flounder. If I hadn’t taken Zumba online for months during quarantine, I would have had the dickens of a time learning it. And I did tap dance from the time I stood up and walked. (For real. In my first recital they pushed me out on the stage in a stroller.)

Most Zumba instructors don’t say another word between “Let’s warm up” and “Let’s cool down.” But my current instructor, who I adore, is a raucous Guatemalan who makes us croak like crows and otherwise shout and trill during and between routines. We sound like a flock of parrots who have missed a few meals. Juni (he’s the instructor) says this helps with our breathing. No use begging to differ.

Two years ago, before I wandered into Juni’s class and braved the judgment of the clique, I couldn’t climb the stairs at my school without gasping for breath. Now I sprint up like a spring chicken. (Not really, but I no longer huff and puff.)

I love Zumba. For real there are young cheerleaders in the class, and I like judging them. There’s also a very charming and handsome fellow who can really cut a rug. And Juni is so fun and flamboyant.

You’re supposed to have goals when you exercise. Until recently I didn’t really have one beyond the whole “get up the stairs at school” thing. But that has changed. I now have a goal.

My goal is to outlast the current commander in chief.

Cha cha cha! CAW CAW CAW. One session at a time.