We used to jump, run, spin, move forward and backward, round and round, up and down and finally end up on the carpet with a towel.
We’ve come a long, sweaty way , baby.
We used to go to a bar afterward, for a Diet Coke and maybe even a beer. Anything we did with turbo was under the hoods of our cars. We looked for lizards (well, I did, anyways, living in Florida at the time), and we fed the pigeons in the park. If something was ripped, we took it to someone who knew how to sew and our definition of insanity was the person we knew who didn’t like to work out.
Now?
We head to the Barre to sculpt our legs and tone our upper bodies. We NEVER drink soda or suds after a workout unless it has a listing of some major protein as its main ingredient. Some of us drive electric cars and the turbo is in our kick in the gym meaning business. We get stretched out in all the right places with poses in yoga, we now rip our bodies into shape with resistance, intervals of explosive moves, powerful plyometrics up to the ceiling, going on forever with endurance and try to keep some semblance of a balanced diet, and we’ve all gone insane with our own body weight as powerfully as possible. Thanks, Shaun T. Your body frikkin’ rocks. I want the same one.
When I started teaching “Animal Aerobics” back in the mid-80’s, we had a floor , a mirror, sometimes a stage, never a microphone and a surplus of spandex, colorful Reeboks, legwarmers, and thongs up there. And curly hair. And the music was loud, all mixed by ourselves on our turntables and cassette tapes. Every song had a routine….certain moves to the chorus, to be broken up in between and then built up to a crescendo to the climax of the high-kicking routine.
Ahhhhh,…yes….those were the days. I thought they’d never end.
I was 20-something and living my best life. It was my part-time job, which afforded me the luxuries I wouldn’t let myself have with my “real job”, like more spandex, more leotards, more 12-inch long-playing records hogging up my apartment in stacks, and weekend visits to dance clubs.
All at $13/class pay rate. And I taught 16 classes per week. I lived for it, teaching at 4 different places and meeting my soul sisters and a couple brothers.
My second job was the best.
I continued to do it for years to come, eventually making my way up to $34/class pay rate teaching in more hoity-toity places which could afford it.
My repertoire changed slightly, always within my certification limits with AFAA (Aerobic Fitness Association of America), later with NASM (National Academy of Sports Medicine), including the aforementioned “Animal Aerobics” to “Step Reebok” “Slide Reebok”, “Circuit Training”, “Lift and Strength”, “Kickboxing” and other names which were different, but basically used the same approach:
-Hard core cardio of at least 40 minutes sustained aerobic activity
-Light to moderate weight training with hand weights and bars
-Resistance training with tubes and bands
-Intense core work on the mat
-Cool down, including stretch and relaxation
There. That’s it. That’s been the crust of my over 37 years of being a fitness instructor.
Today there is such a plethora of work out facilities, names for work outs, machines to use, badass dirty-bricked warehouses to utilize to feel that same badass-ness, nice mirrored spaces where you can wear all black and watch your form in the mirror, admiring the results, hot cork floors which allow your sprawling bodies to elongate, breathe, work and relax all the same time, orange lights to let you know “baby…you’ve hit the sweet spot! Yay YOUUUUUUU”, and rooms full of bikes and monitors to race each other and kick the other team’s ass.
So. Much. To. Choose. From.
So, how do you decide?
The fitness world has become the new lunchroom the first year of high school if you’re the new kid who just moved to town. They all have their places, like “Mean Girls”…their own territory.
Talk to somebody from one of those previously mentioned “BadAss Gyms” and they look their noses down on the “pretty place” where you point your toes and rise high on the balls of your feet while tucking like it’s nothing. Meanwhile, those on the ball of their feet sneer when thinking of doing a disgusting burpee on an equally foul floor of a warehouse when it’s all momentum anyway. Spinners? They will tell you it is the most bust-ass cardio workout every and they come out every single time drenched from t-shirt to padded-butt shorts, and there’s nothing like it for them. Meanwhile, over at the yoga studio, virtues of a longer, leaner body have never been extolled more than by those who have…”practiced” (please do not call it working out….) the art of yoga going on 5-7 years now. They’ll never give it up.
Etc, etc, etc…
The long and short of it is this:
A body in motion is a body in motion. Clothing may change and go out of style, music on the radio may have a different beat than last year, protein may beat the hell out of carbohydrates on the latest diet, and trips to certain locales may be the coveted “spot of the month”.
But one thing that never changes is this:
Working out is working out. Find what you like, and make it the main ingredient on your plate. For a side dish, try one of the other types. Mix it up. Come back always to what works for you, but add a new ingredient every now and then. Whether it’s in the gym or running on a trail…you’ll find something.
All of these fitness regimes have one magical thing in common: they have all managed to stay in business, whether it’s a “box gym” offering the plethora, or a specialized studio or warehouse fitness facility, they’ve all done a damn good job finding there niche audience. Fiscally not feasible to join them all for most, find your favorite after trying them all out and make the decision best for you.
Be forever fit.
Now please excuse me. I ran this morning, taught a Circuit Combo class and am now heading to hot yoga.
Yours in fitness,
Jen 
jensumandthensome 