Zumba: Use It or Lose It

Because of all the doctors who said my arthritic hip needed replacing, advice I have steadily rejected for fear of setting off airport security beepers, I am morphing into a creaky old lady. Thankfully it doesn't show--not yet. But I learned the truth last night at an exercise class called Zumba Toning. After an hour of dancing, stretching, jumping and weight-lifting set to hip-hop and disco, I hobbled home and could barely drag myself up the stairs to bed. This morning was worse: how would I get down those stairs? Pissed that we never installed an elevator, I managed, one tread at a time.

At least I wasn't the oldest person in the class of about 30 energetic, totally in-shape Zumbites. One lady, another first-timer, had me by about five or six years, and she was in big trouble for most of the hour. In fact, seeing her unruly body, over which she seemingly had no dominion, was quite motivating: I'm not there yet. My advice to anyone who wants to avoid creaking before their time, or even in their time, includes the following:

1. Never patronize a restaurant you see advertised on television.
2. Always research medical advice before following it. Remember the old saw: 50% of all doctors graduated in the bottom half of their class. (These days it's more like 75%, if that is mathematically possible.)
3. Do not knowingly consume salt.
4. Drink water constantly, alternating with tea.
5. If it tastes good, spit it out.
6. Move until it hurts, i.e., find a Zumba class in your neighborhood.

I'm going back there tomorrow night if it kills me, which it might. But still, it's not too late. The pain I'm feeling today is proof that I'm not dead yet.