I Came, I Saw, I Danced…Sort Of

I’m usually one of those people that is willing to try just about anything. Usually. Do you want to try a swimming boot camp run by Navy Seals? YES! Do you want to run the Leadville Heavy Half twice and try not to die? YES! Do you want to join a New Year’s challenge where you have to submerge yourself in a tank of water to measure body fat and then complete a series of classes and then dunk yourself again a month later? ABSOLUTELY!

The New Year’s challenge is where it all began. There were 25 classes, and I was going to complete each one because I have issues and can’t say no to a challenge, nor can I stand losing a challenge. Big reveal, I did not win the challenge. Each week I went to the gym and completed class after class and proudly checked them off. I even took photos of my challenge card because I was so proud of myself. Yay me! But, there was one class that I just couldn’t get myself to try. I’m not going to lie; a friend offered to go for me so that I didn’t have to go. However, I am not blond and 5’9. I’m a 5’4 (ish) brunette and a rule follower, so I said I’d go.

Every Monday, Wednesday, and Saturday I’d trek up the stairs and hear it. It was loud; it was scary, it was the sound that I called a whole lot of NOPE. It was Groove. The lights were off, the disco ball was going, the music was crazy loud, and I NOPE’d myself past the room each week. The final week of the challenge arrived, and it could be avoided no longer. Like a teenager in a horror movie that offers to check things out alone, I made my way up the stairs and into the dark fearing that I’d never make it out alive. I planted myself in the furthest possible corner and prayed the hour would pass quickly. That first class was nothing short of a hot mess, and my “dance moves” were similar to that of someone that was being attacked by a bear that was being attacked by bees. That would’ve been a lot more entertaining to watch. The dance moves are best described as a convulsive death dance. (FYI, I plan to trademark that dance). After an hour of convulsing and swearing at myself the entire time, I walked up to Tricia afterward and made it clear that I didn’t want to be there but did it anyway. I’m pretty sure I thought she’d give me a participation trophy just for showing up. I’m still waiting for my trophy, but at this point, I’d accept a medal or embossed certificate with a gold seal on it…and maybe some glitter.

After the first class, I was convinced I’d never go again. I went home and bragged to my husband that I took the class and didn’t ever have to go back. Yes, I bragged about being a Groove drop out one class. I talked and talked…and talked about the class that night, and he finally responded, “Are you going to join something else because I feel like you’re going to join something else.” I promised him that I was not going to join. At this point, I should admit that when I say I won’t join something, it’s a lie about 99.9% of the time. I couldn’t stop thinking about Groove, and was told by a friend that there were videos online I could do at home. This was exciting! I was going to dance at home like a superstar! Even though my dancing remained terrible, I was able to stop the videos and replay them until I could understand the dances. My only other option was to yell out during class and ask Tricia to stop and explain something every ten seconds. I spent many nights practicing and sweating in my room to Groove. I didn’t realize that there would be so much sweating involved because I was rewinding the dances so often. I’m sure the rewinding made me sweat more. The videos gave me the extra boost of confidence I needed and I officially decided that I was not going to be a Groove drop out.
Each class I went to go was easier than the last class. Today I attended my 60th class.

I keep going back because:
1. Tricia’s energy is nothing short of magnetic and her personal story resonated with me.
2. Dancing got easier. I even began to request songs that I knew!
3. I became an incredible dancer and now dance in the first row and could probably teach the class.

The last one is a total lie, I’m still in the back but have left my corner and moved up two rows and one space…not that I’m keeping track or anything. I’m hoping to make it to the first row by 2020. In the meantime, I’ll just keep perfecting my convulsive death dance while moving up one space at a time.