COLUMN: Water aerobics not for the faint of heart
Each day in my water aerobics course is an adventure. I am not going to lie, this class was, indeed, a last resort attempt on my part to include a “fun” class into my assiduous schedule. My first choice was hip-hop. Second choice, tai chi. Third choice, racquetball. Yet I think I will spare you the detailed reasons behind the several eliminations that led to my final, last-string choice, because the only important thing to remember is that I am loving it. It’s the best last-string decision I have ever made. Water aerobics may have an unflattering stereotype, but, trust me, its parlous perks completely outweigh the weak image it projects.
Water aerobics is not for the fainthearted. Especially when we, my classmates and I, do activities that warrant the belt, which is a spongy blue buckled contraption that we wrap around our respective waists to aid in non-sinkage. Whenever we wear the belts, we are not allowed to touch the floor with our feet. It is tread time. Sometimes we pretend to be kayaks, by sitting in the water with our legs creating a 90-degree angle to our torsos. We proceed to use our arms as paddles in order to propel our kayak-transformed selves across the length of the pool for the duration of several laps.
The most perilous part of this exercise is when my blue belt starts to ride up my back and constrict my lung expansion, resulting in difficult, labored breath that does not help oxygen get to my muscles very efficiently. It is like a corset. Yes, a giant blue corset squeezing my chest to the point of passing out. It gives my workout such a thrilling, X-treme edge!
The adventure is not limited to the pool. The locker room is always a source of unanticipated adventure. Shoving my coat and boots and backpack and clothing into my small, dinky locker is a feat not easily accomplished. It is even more difficult to remember which of the million lockers is mine. Once, at the end of class, I had a little adventure with this quintessential fact.
I tried the combination to my locker over and over and over again. It obstinately refused to open. Yes sir, I had a problem. My mind started freaking out as my dripping bathing-suited body created a chlorinated puddle around my flip-flopped feet. I desperately entreated the other girls in my near vicinity to try to crack the code of my combination, so that I could change into my clothing and hurry to my next class, but alas, they were not successful with the insurmountable task either.
I contemplated running to my next class in a towel, but the ludicrousness of this thought made me spill over with uncontainable laughter. Can you imagine me, in all my scantily-clad string bean glory, with nothing to save my skin from the outdoors except a wet bathing suit, scandalously tromping through campus? Oh brother. I casually exited the locker room, gingerly approached the equipment front desk, explained my delicate situation to the two gentleman standing post and asked if they could check to make sure I was struggling with the correct locker. In the meantime, I unexpectedly ran into a friend.
“What on earth are you up to?” she asked incredulously as she could not help but smile at my soddenly soaked predicament.
“Oh shush,” I said.
It turns out that all of my concerted efforts had been in vain, because my locker was in a completely different row. D instead of F. Sheesh. Going to class 30 minutes late did not seem like a viable option, so I took my dandy little time sprucing myself up and calming myself down. Sometimes you gotta take life as it comes.
Another notable water aerobics experience was the eventful day when I forgot to wear my contact lenses to class. If you know me, you know that without tools of vision correction, the world looks like a blob of fuzzy colors to my cones and rods. (And if you do not know me, you have now learned this intriguing fact about moi, regardless of the degree to which you know me, so congratulations.)
I did have my glasses with me that day, but, gall, people aren’t supposed to wear glasses when they swim, because glasses fall off and become lost in the deep end of no return. I spent the whole class bobbing along to the beat of my own drum. We learned all sorts of new exercises that I executed ad lib with grand style. I observed the vague outlines of my surroundings and attempted to move in the general direction that the class was moving. I think I avoided looking too much like a fool.
But, ha ha, it is kind of too late for that. I look like a fool in every aerobics class I participate due to my swim cap. This is no ordinary swim cap. This swim cap was purchased explicitly for my water aerobics class for the sole reason that its appearance is overtly grandma-esque. It exhibits a bright, clinically white color and flaunts a thick strap that snaps beneath my chin. Its texture is bubbly and squishy and covers most of my forehead and neck. It rocks, and I know you wish you had one.
Melissa Condie is a junior majoring in music education. Comments can be sent to m.condie@aggiemail.usu.edu.