One cold, one upper respiratory infection and two incidents of thrown out backs later, I find myself at the gym. Specifically, I’m back in zumba class and the mad dash to work out now that spring is here is nothing short of eye popping annoying.  The zumba class comfortably accommodates 45.  It can squeeze 50 -60.  Today, there were nearly 80 people in the room.  80!

The woman next to me hit me twice during our dance moves.  You can’t really get into the hot groove of swinging your tush when there’s another person’s hip in your back.

My back is cracking and popping like popcorn.  Every move sounds like some kind of release and while it feels wonderful, it is equally frustrating to start at the beginning of getting fit.  Lying on my back with limited mobility for nearly 3 weeks atrophied my muscles and took any kind of endurance out of my lungs.  My jeans are a little snug and working out, as expected, for the first time felt slow and measured.  Before my injuries, I was lifting and running, dancing on my off days and feeling fantastic.  My mood was elevated and workouts, even in the most intense intervals, felt like a wonderful burning sensation.  Afterward, I felt renewed and energized.

Now?  After today’s workout I was hobbling to my car and rested in the driver’s seat until I realized someone was patiently waiting for my parking spot.

As one gets older, the spring break fitness routines and alcohol binges seem somewhat ridiculous.  Just like working out solely to be thin seems.  I work out now to relieve stress, to feel normal, to release some inner pressure that can only be released with physical exertion and sweat.  I work out to feel that lovely swing of my ponytail and to feel the blood pumping in my limbs, feeding the muscles’ work.  I love leaning over the water fountain and that terrible gym water taste like heaven on my dry tongue.

Today, though, it was one long marathon of a workout.  An hour and fifteen minutes of, “Oh.  My.  God.  Please.  Help.  Me.  I am going to DIE.”

But, that’s what you do to get back in the saddle.  Pain first.  Then pleasure. Then euphoria.

I want to have that euphoria again.