(Photo Courtesy of www.annabotelho.com)
Grandma Anna assured me that dressing the part was everything – regardless of my place on learning curve. The result is that one of my walk-in closets houses a collection of spandex dance dresses -- red, purple, royal blue, and lots of black. Just spin or swivel my heels and the skirt becomes a banner signaling that I’m a much better dancer than I really am.
Those dresses, along with a pair of dancing shoes with suede soles are a relic of my years as a widow. Dennis is an excellent dancer, but his bad back limits us to jitterbugging only at the occasional wedding.
One week ago Saturday I indulged my love of dance with my first Zumba class at HealthWorks Brookline. My place on the dance learning curve had once taken me to competency in swing and West Coast swing, but needing remedial work in any of the Latin dances.
According to Wikipedia, Zumba is an aerobic dance program that started in Colombia in the ‘90’s -- with classes using music based on salsa, merengue, cumbia, and reggaeton. I had thought about the prospect of getting a few private lessons, just to get me up to speed to avoid the humiliation of using my right foot when I was supposed to be using my other right foot.
I had taken spinning classes on Saturday mornings with a beautiful young woman named Leonie. Because she moves with such grace, I thought she might be a dancer. Exhausted after one of her spinning classes, I couldn’t resist her invitation to join her new Zumba class she said would follow in another studio at 10 a.m.
Ultra positive in her approach to teaching, Leonie sees Zumba as “a big party,” the sole purpose of which is to have fun while getting a great workout. The fact that HealthWorks is an all women’s gym probably helps too, but my new teacher began by telling beginners that her class is not about benchmarking one’s progress by what other people are doing or feeling self-conscious.
Clad in one of the many cotton T-shirts I’ve purchased at rowing regattas and art museums, and a pair of spandex shorts, I was fine – except for the running shoes. Leonie told me I could put tape on the bottom of a pair of running shoes, just so that my feet wouldn’t grip the floor.
But remembering Grandma’s advice, I asked Leonie what type of shoes she was wearing. Who knew there were special “dance sneakers”? She told me they were definitely not necessary, but if I wanted, a company named Bloch made good ones.
Thankfully I had MLK Day off, and amid a snowstorm headed out to the Capezio store in Wellesley. A helpful sales woman suggested I try a few different brands of dance sneaker to ensure the best fit. In my heart of hearts, I was happy that the Bloch ones really did feel the most comfortable.
A web site I checked suggests that a complete Zumba outfit would require cargo pants and a tank top – which is what Leonie wears when she’s teaching. But for now I think the Bloch dance sneakers are enough.
A friend of mine from Argentina once observed that Americans insist on having special clothing or accessories for every activity – implying this is just a wee bit self-indulgent. That brings me to the question of which gym bag I use for storing my dance sneakers.
I had been storing them with the biking shoes, padded shorts and gel seat pad I use for spinning. But since an old wrist problem has flared up, I may have to relegate the biking gear to the walk-in closet housing the spandex dance dresses, and three deep shelves of rowing outfits.
Be assured that my substantial inventory of rowing shirts – made of a form-fitting tech fabric that wicks perspiration away – along with color-coordinated spandex rowing pants, shorts, and my rowing club’s official unisuit will be put to good use as soon as the Charles thaws.
The special clothing is about more than just looking the part. It’s about making a commitment to stick with an activity despite the challenges of even a steep learning curve.
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