A friend of ours teaches a twice-weekly Zumba class, and Pepper decided to go. She asked if I wanted to, and I told her absolutely not. Not only do I dislike exercise in general, I especially dislike exercise where I have to guess what the instructor is going to do, attempt to emulate it, and end up looking like an uncoordinated idiot.

So she headed to class, and I headed to the street. I’m in training (so to speak) for an upcoming 5k run, so I figured I should at least get in some running time. It was a little after eight in the morning, but already above 90 degrees. I pounded the sidewalks for a few miles, sweating profusely, and went over to the Zumba class to get a ride back home.

When I arrived, they were still Zumba-ing. I waited for a few minutes but they showed no sign of stopping, so I took a deep breath and walked into the gym. I slid into the back– where Pepper happened to be as well– and finished out the last ten minutes of class. Sure enough, I felt like an idiot, but it was funny how all the women (and they were all women) congratulated me on joining them. I guess they don’t get a lot of guys in there. Or they felt so sorry for me they wanted to salvage what was left of my self-esteem.

Here we are afterward.

Next time I think I’ll just run the rest of the way home…