I'm guessing I'm the only one who was surprised

It seemed like a fine enough idea. I even mentioned it to a few people just to make sure I wasn’t delusional. “I will modify!” “I know my limits!” “It’s for beginners so it will be low-key!” And all of this was and still is true. And yet, after two classes of this fitness fad called Zumba, I am left on the couch smelling of Icy-Hot, having to admit that I’m just not ready to Zumba.

But it was so much FUN!! As I did little dance steps and swung my arms and drank a full bottle of water and felt my hair sweating, I felt alive!! The music was South American hip-shaking stuff that left me craving a margarita and chips and salsa. Ole! I was thrilled to find myself picking up the steps pretty quickly, a surprising by-product of my dedication to the step aerobics fad of the ‘90s. I was careful to modify, making sure not to hula hoop too broadly or jump or shimmy or cuchi cuchi. At the end of the class, I was sweating and breathing hard and smiling big. I realized it had been years since I had sweated that much from exercise. And it felt fantastic.

I paid close attention to my back (just ask me) over the next few days and returned to Zumba four days later, ready to modify a touch more just to be extra careful. It all fell apart when I got home.

My knee was screaming and almost collapsed under me as I walked into the house. It was the universe’s way of slapping me in the face. Although I had worn the wrong shoes (hence the knee), I could no longer hide from the fact that my back was hurting. And had been hurting since the first class. Not in a pin-pointed, pitch-forky, screaming way. More in an all-over, hit by an SUV way. And I had been convincing myself it was “a good hurt.” That it was the pain of muscles that hadn’t been used in a long time. And honestly, I still think that is the case. But I’m not sure those muscles need to be used that way. They are very busy protecting my fused spine. I really don’t need to swing my hips for good back care.

And so I lay in bed, on a heating pad, face scrunched up in waning defiance, tears of reality welling in my eyes. And I said out loud to Rob, “My back is hurting and I think it’s from Zumba.” I know, big DUH! But it was a big admission for me because I so, so, SO wanted to be able to take these classes. I had forgotten how much I loved the hugely fun combination of exercising and dancing and socializing. I was thrilled to find something mildly athletic that I was good at. I looked forward to laughing with a great bunch of women from my church and getting to know them even better. And the universe replied: “ That’s nice. Next?”

I have had a lot of practice over the years accepting, letting go, moving on from things I want to do but really can’t because of my back. It was really hard in the beginning because my life was filled with “can’ts.” These days, I know better what things to not even try. So I was a bit rusty on dealing with the frustration and anger and disappointment of being a two-year-old not getting her way.

Part of me is thinking I was a fool to even try Zumba, that I should have known better and that I could have avoided all this harrumphing if I had just been logical about it and stayed away. But, well, apparently this road of acceptance has a few bumps and detours. And the universe still has some lessons it wants to teach me. Like, for instance, Icy-Hot patches really don’t work.