I’ve been climbing Suck Mountain since June and now that the weather is turning from hyperventilating sweat-slogs to just heavy-breathing slogs but with a jolly leaf change, I’ve decided to change it up a little bit (and stay out of the rain). Today’s DVD was with a demon named Allyson and her peppy three-mile walk to the soundtrack of public domain background music. The only thing that kept my attention during the 50 minutes? The complete lack of coordination during jazzy beats of the woman in the back. We two are sisters in matching yoga pants.
Allyson started off slowly, baby steps into the new and exciting world of power walking in your living room, her middle-aged thighs only packing a few things in the saddlebags. Her brightly colored backup walkers in ill-fitting t-shirts were ready to go and I spied Debby in yellow, already having trouble with the simple “base” step of marching in place. Wrong foot, wrong foot, with only one arm pumping while the other flopped helplessly at her side. I felt her pain. I couldn’t make it past the warm up level in Jazzercize. As Allyson took it up a notch to a sassy sidestep, I saw Debby flounder – for a minute there I thought she was going down – as her foot flew out, nearly kicking the blue walker in the buns. This was better than hiking up Suck Mountain any day, I couldn’t stop watching and waiting for Debby to take down the rest in a heap of spandex. Her arms akimbo, her face contorted while she concentrated on the steps – back, back, toe touch, front – I knew she’d never make it to Mile Two and the weight balls o’doom.