Things I've Learned From Nevada Fitness Club, Part One.

In January of 2014, I had finished my fall semester of hell and had begun my spring semester, which, pre-thesis, made me feel like I had a LOT of free time. Free time for me is a disaster, as I tend to spend too much of it over-thinking. Although my over-thinking this time ultimately ended up being dead accurate, I didn't realize that then, and decided that I would try going to the Nevada Fitness Club a couple of nights a week with my brave and loyal friend, Regan.

We started on January 27, and almost quit that same night.

When you're used to doing yoga for 23 minutes, five nights a week, and spending roughly half of that balanced on one leg while playing Candy Mania, an actual workout with other people there to hold you accountable, a workout of ANY kind, is kind of a kick in the pants. This first night was Combat Cardio, and the instructor spent about 47 of the 50 minutes between Regan and I, but more toward me, telling me how much I sucked at all the ways of kicking. I felt like the Karate Kid when Mr. Miyagi first got a hold of him, only flabbier (side note: I actually spelled Mr. Miyagi right on the first try, which is crazy, or indicative of my level of fandom).

So while I should have felt defeated after that first night, instead I felt GREAT. I highly recommend Combat Cardio if you have any stress whatsoever. Just air-punch and curb-stomp whatever your personal El Guapo is, and I promise you'll feel better, or more tired. One of them.

I struggled that first week, only going two nights (one of the four nights I had night class, and one of them Regan worked, so we agreed that two of four wasn't bad for beginners).

The point is, I have learned a lot in the time since January 27, and I'm going to break it down into individual lessons that Fit Club has taught me.

Lesson One: I Got MOVES.

I am very, very clumsy. I trip over nothing. I bang into door frames, even specific ones that I've been through many, many, MANY times before and should well know. I fall down the last two to three steps regularly. And the only, only way I can dance is if I'm pretty drunk. I can't dance, is what I'm saying.

However, a little crisscross punch here, a little up-center-back-center there, and all of a sudden, my repertoire has expanded from the Bus Driver and the Knee Cross to like, five or six consecutive moves! I could even semi-choreograph a dance!

I'm just kidding. I'll leave that to the NHS Dance Team. But I have actual potential moves, should I ever want to dance sober. Which I undoubtedly won't.

And although those first weeks were very, very klutzy, I was able to eventually transition into anticipating and successfully completing even the trickiest footwork. Mostly. And if I can do that, you should definitely come try as well.

Monday through Thursday, Nevada Community Center, 6:30 p.m. I'm the one in the back, closest to the door.