Zumba: Fun Fitness or Knee-Blasting Torture

Zumba is my latest delusion. Yep, that’s the word I meant to use. You see, I have to trick myself into fitness. I’ve never been a person who likes to workout, nor do I strive for the endorphin rush.  Give me some foot-tapping music and let me think I’m having fun and I’m there.

Promoters of Zumba define the workout as “a Latin-inspired, calorie-burning dance fitness-party.” And that definition is accurate. To a point.

The “Latin-inspired” description of Zumba is definitely accurate. If you’ve ever done any of the Latin dances, you’ll find the so-called “easy” steps a bit, well, easier.  That said, many Zumba instructors also incorporate a bit of Bollywood influence and a lot of Afro-Cuban booty-shaking.

“Calorie-burning” can also be accurately applied to Zumba—assuming you actually do it. I burn calories for approximately twenty-seven minutes. Then I start wheezing and panting. I keep telling myself huffing and puffing burns fat, too.

“Fitness-party—hmmm. Isn’t that an oxymoron? For my sake, let’s just call it a party (see the delusion reference in paragraph one). Again, the party lasts approximately twenty-seven minutes, then it turns into the dinner party with your in-laws (a.k.a. workout from hell).

Joking aside, Zumba is a good way for a woman to get into shape. Just protect those knees with good shoes . The serious enthusiast will buy dance sneakers, but as long as your cross-trainers absorb impact, you’ll be fine.

On caveat. Ignore that skinny, twenty-something hot shot who’s hips don’t seem connected to the rest of her body. At some point in the very near future, she’ll only last twenty-seven minutes, too.