community moment: nia movement class

In search of dance classes for people who have never danced (or moved - ever), I came across this "Nia Movement" thing inside our local parks and recreation guide.  It had absolutely no description, except for claiming to be a very fun movement-y class.  Given that all the other classes were either too boring-sounding (ballet) or too intimidating (kickboxing), I went ahead and signed up for Nia.  It's every Tuesday, at the senior center.  

For some reason, I didn't picture old people when I envisioned walking into the senior center on the day of my first class.  I pictured a dense crowd of young go-getters.

No, the building was vacant and dimly lit, smelling distinctly of perfume, cheap furniture, and exercise equipment.  There were hints of balding grey heads within the corridors.  Don't get me wrong - I have nothing against people who are old.  Or young.  I have nothing against people.  It's just that... I'm not old.  I felt a tad out of my element.

Still, I pursued my assigned exercise room.

Awaiting me were three ladies over the age of 70, and a short, exhausted-looking woman who appeared to be the instructor.  She smiled tensely, and the women behind stared straight ahead.  

The class began with a grand total of five people, all regulars.  My instructor had us stand in a circle and say our names.  She recognized me as new and told me, "I don't like to give people an exact description of what Nia IS - I like to let YOU figure that out," which was cool.

With that, she bounced over to a CD player on the floor, which blared jazzy music.  She adjusted a microphone to her ear and started instructing.

From here on, I was blasted into the wild world of Nia, which turned out to be a well-synchronized combination of every form of dance there is to learn.  We started out with some Yoga, transitioned into Jazzercise, then Bollywood, then (you guessed it) kickboxing, and even a bit of modern dance.  Between moves she had us make up our own stuff and really express our inner emotion, which gave the experience an even sillier vibe than it had before.  

The ladies were fit.  They were experienced.  They were almost better than me, except for being in their cranky older-than-teenager bodies.  Near the end, a particularly talented woman next to me whispered, "Way to go, Zoe!"  

"Thanks, Sally," I said.

I'm happy I signed up.