So I forgot My White Gloves for Hip Hop!

So... in an effort to be less lazy in my adult life, I decided to join a gym last month. I cringe even typing it the word "gym." I feel like such a tool. I'd so much rather be getting exercise in a more natural way, like through playing soccer, walking to class, climbing mountains in Colorado, etc... but now that I am in the working world these opportunities aren't as realistic. The idea of working out with machines in a building created for that purpose just doesn't sit well with me. I feel like energy exerted should produce some sort of result. It would make me feel better if the treadmills and ellipticals were somehow hooked up to windmills or something that could harness the energy and use it for good. Anyways, back to the point...

Last week, Brooke and I attended a hip hop class at our gym. I'm a "class rat" of sorts because it keeps me away from the machines and I love to break it down (as shown by how many times the security cameras have caught me busting my moves at the office). Well, B and I don't mess around on the dance floor so we were hoping this class could really challenge us. I had been once before and wasn't so sure about the dance style (it didn't seem to be hip hop) so I was giving it one last shot. Brooke on the other hand was a first timer with nothing to compare it to.


Upon arriving, I realized that there was a different teacher. The regular teacher had stepped on a nail, and he was unable to teach. This new teacher was probably asked to step in about an hour before with no time to prepare and no time to get a background in hip hop dance. She started off with more kicks and high knees than I have ever done consecutively. "Kick front! Kick back! To the side! High knees!" The music blared alternating between Janet and Michael Jackson songs. It was all very remenicent of the 1980's.

After about 20 minutes, she moved away from high kicks into old school dance moves. I am guessing that she was racking her brain for ideas and her rolodex landed on "dances from high school days." I wish I could insert video footage here of Brooke and I demonstrating these dance moves because I cannot describe them to their full credit. To give you an idea, we were asked to do the "Roger Rabbit" and then we definitely did the "Tootsie Roll" for an extended period of time (which to my surprise really works your calves). "Dip, baby, dip... Come on! Let's dip, baby, dip!"

After this blast from the past she had us get in a low position... kind of a bouncing squat of sorts which focused on our quads. And it was at this time that she yelled out, "Okay, you're in a box! You're in a box!" And she started to MIME like she was in a box to the music and insisted we join in. I was dying! I couldn't help but turn to Brooke as we were both pretending to be trapped inside a box without busting out in laughter. The teacher sped the miming up to double-time and yelled out in encouragement "Beautiful! You look beautiful. Keep it up!"

Of course, this was when half the class grabbed their water bottles and left the room. I just felt so bad for the sub as she hollered after them, "Thanks for coming," so of course Brooke and I decided to stick it out. She finished the class by asking us to teach her moves and having the whole class learn along with her. At one point she gave her teaching microphone to a girl in the class to teach some choreography. And then the last 4 minutes were freestyle where we were to "act like we were in the club."

All in all... we sweat and had a good laugh. I just wonder who was watching us while working out on the machines outside the glass wall.