I missed out on Jazzercise when it was first trendy, years ago, although it still ranks as the number one fitness franchise. I had been busy biking, running, rollerblading, hiking, anything outdoors. For a phase, while I lived in Manhattan, I rollerbladed to work; that is, until a tall, burly man standing beside me at a street corner said, “You’ve got guts,” as I pushed off the curb to cross the intersection of impatient taxis. That’s when I realized I should probably opt for a safer form of exercise.
Now I do Jazzercise. I’m on the once-a-week plan because I still like the outdoors and because that is all I need to keep away the aches and pains from everything else I do. It amazes me how I have zero neck pain—even after working ten hours at the computer—due to the incredible variety of movement and strengthening this one class provides.
Jazzercise also gets me thinking. Any kind of exercise does, but the dance steps seem to be particularly conducive to mental activity. I’m the one in class who runs to my notepad between songs to jot down an idea. Why other people don’t do this, I do not know.
There was a man in class today, a novelty for our group. He took a position in the center of the room, in the middle of about thirty women. He managed the steps well. I have a secret fantasy that my husband will sign up one day. It’s not just that I want to giggle as he tries his first sashay, but I’m tired of hearing about the shoulder he hurt while weightlifting or the muscle he pulled when he kicked a ball. I’m quite convinced the comprehensive stretching and twisting of Jazzercise will stop him from hurting himself elsewhere. Unfortunately, he’s not showing any signs of interest at this time.
I also noticed a mother and daughter in class today, jazzercising side by side. It was clear they were mother and daughter because they were both strikingly beautiful, just one had long bouncy hair in a ponytail and looked a lot younger than the rest of us.
Of course, the other ladies, the ones I see regularly, are beautiful, too. Especially the one who came to class even when she had no hair. Especially the one who came to class the day after half her house burned down. And especially the one who didn’t come to class when her teenage son went missing…though she did keep in touch through facebook so we could pray, post photos of him, and help search. It was a happy day when she came back to us, all smiles because her son had been found and he was unharmed.
Jazzercise, you see, is moving in more ways than one.