WORK IT!

Exercise is a way of life for many Americans. Whether it’s Curves, Swerves, or Yoga Booty Ballet, we like to get out there and make our muscles tough and buff. I used to love dance classes: jazz, tap, modern – actually, that’s a lie. I did not love modern. That class was a little too airy-fairy for me. When the instructor said, “Now turn yourself into a flower blossom and float over to your neighbor’s garden,” this little blossom just floated right out of the studio and never went back.

Benni and I took some ballroom dancing courses. We learned swing, fox trot, and some rumba, but never worked our way up to salsa. That’s still on my to-do list.
I’ve also enjoyed Yoga classes: the serene atmosphere, the gentle spinal stretches and the soothing chants. During the guided relaxation, I was, for the first time in my life, able to reach a true meditative state – if snoring with your mouth open while spittle runs down your chin can be called a true meditative state.

Yoga can also save you money in medical bills. When we got married, Benni had chronic lower-back problems. Every few months he would go into spasm, could barely walk, couldn’t lift anything, and – dare I say it? – was not too much fun in the sack. He saw acupuncturists, chiropracters, and finally went to an orthopedist who scheduled him for an operation – confirming the old adage, “Ask a surgeon a question and you’ll get a cutting reply.”

Spinal surgery seemed like a radical (and expensive) solution, so I convinced Benni to come with me to Yoga. He felt immediate relief. He canceled the surgery, has done Yoga stretches every day of his life ever since, and has never once had a recurrence of back pain.

We’ve also dabbled in Tai Chi, but never made much progress. The difference between the positions was a little too subtle for me: I was never sure if I was doing Repulse Monkey or Snake Creeps Down.  

I no longer go to any of these classes for two reasons: (1.) you have to leave home to get there, and (2.) they cost money.

When we lived in New York, the Yoga studio was across the street. Now, in Los Angeles, the teacher I like is thirty-five minutes away and I’m the world’s most frazzled driver. The soothing effects of the class will be gone by the time I have completed the nerve-wracking ride home.

Also, classes and gym memberships are expensive, so now I work out at home. It’s cheaper than a gym, plus I don’t have to be exposed to all those Size Two twenty-somethings jabbering about the latest fad diet. I picked up a mat and some weights, and I start every day by doing one of the many workout tapes I buy at yard sales for fifty cents. I’ve got everything from 10-Minute Abs to vintage Jane Fonda and Richard Simmons videos. To vary my routine, I also have a few Yoga DVDs.

You can also get free workouts on the net, like Spark People, Exercise TV, and Yoga Journal – just to name a few. (On many of these sites, you have to tolerate the hyper-perky language, like “Six-Minute Butt Blaster!”) My next project will be to try the flamenco dance classes at eHow. I am charmed by the instructor’s accent. “Bend your neeze a leetle beet.”

Another plus of exercising at home is that I know my body, so no one can force me to do moves that might be harmful. One friend paid a bundle to join a “boot camp” that met in a public park every morning. The teacher was as demanding as a drill sergeant – and about as compassionate – and everyone in the group ended up with long-term, costly injuries. No thanks.

Why buy a treadmill when you can just speed-walk around the neighborhood? Rowena joins me twice a week for half an hour. We carry weights, and gossip breathlessly while keeping up a vigorous pace: another fine example of multi-tasking!