Peer pressure is an awful thing. It happens in numerous situations in adult life. You think it ends in the playground with 'I dare you to kiss Johnny and get cooties', which you go ahead and do and remain scared shitless of the killer cooties for days to come. But it follows you into adult life with more painful consequences. It's the 'another drink?', or 'want to share desert?', or 'ah the plane doesn't go that high, just jump'. I had this high and mighty idea of myself that I had gone beyond all that rubbish. Oh silly silly Amy.
I said in a previous blog, the one before I found myself screaming like a raving lunatic at my broken down car, that I was turning my life around one local activity at a time. So I tottered off to my local GAA hall to partake in a Zumba class. As a kid I filled most of my spare time prancing around dance studios and local halls, and I have done every form of dance I could get into. I was told that Zumba was the perfect way to keep fit and meet new people. Dance and a natter; I figured it sounded pretty perfect. I went in expecting to find it really easy as I am soooo fit with my size 8 jeans, and it would all be nothing more than some sexy shaking of the hips to latin music and a nice little step around. Boy was I wrong!
When I arrived in I was asked to fill out a form and on the form I was asked 'What is your reason for joining Zumba?', I said to meet new friends, and the guy on the desk looked at me up and down, laughed, and said jokingly 'well it isnt to lose weight'. I thought this a little strange, but as I am a pretty small person, I took no notice. I went into the class, and after 5 minutes I understood why he said that. The word 'calm' does not belong here, nor the word 'sexy', or 'step'. The words I would use are 'intense', 'sweaty', 'hot', and 'challenging'. After 5 minutes of dancing I was a puffing, knackered mess. I was slowly coming to learn that size 8 jeams mean nothing, and I was in fact incredibly unfit. In the few seconds of recovery I had between songs, one of the girls stopped beside me, and I looked at her and said 'tough isnt it?'. She said 'ah ye it is I suppose, but it should be easy enough for a skinny thing like you'.
There is was. The peer pressure you think when you leave school that you leave behind. I looked around and realised that all of these women, most of whom were older than me and, honestly, bigger than me, were running rings around me. I realised that I had to put my all into this if I was going to come out even close to their stamina. Some of these women were on their second hour of Zumba, and I was struggling with the first 15 minutes. These women are fit, much fitter than me, and as small as I am, the only exercise I had been getting for the past three years was the running totter in heels across the road on a Saturday night. Well by God I threw myself around that hall. I whooped whooped with everyone while jumping and spinning and speed cha cha chaing, and I came out looking far from the sexy I was expecting. The next day, as much as I didnt admit it then, I was in massive amounts of pain. I hadn't felt pain like that since I thought I could handle 45 minutes running on a tread mill with a hangover 2 years ago in college (it was my first time inside a gym. Not a good idea)
Yet, despite the initial shock to the system and the pain every time I climbed a flight of stairs for the rest of the week, I went back. I felt amazing after the second week, and even better this week. The girls there are friendly and we all push through together. I am feeling it getting easier every week as my fitness gets better, and I talk to more new people every week. I guess this time around a bit of peer pressure was what I needed to get the heart going.
Slán.
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