My decade of dance aerobics

One of the instructors at my gym recently resurrected her old dance aerobics class — 2000s-era music and moves — for a Saturday morning class. I decided it would be fun to go, having been “into” dance aerobics for many years, when I was much younger.

The very first choreographed class I walked into at the former Kalispell Athletic Club years ago, some highly danceable music, in particular INXS, was blasting out of the speakers — there was no turning back. And so began my decade of dance aerobics.

The ’90s were the heydays for dance aerobics. A lithe, leggy redhead with a ballet background was teaching a class three mornings a week at the club. I began going religiously, back then with a toddler and baby in tow. We were a solid group of dedicated members who chose to burn calories by breaking out our aspiring dance moves.

When someone once commented to one of the long-timers what good shape she was in, she attributed it to our teacher, saying “Body by Beth!” That cemented the class name.

Those were the days when aerobics was all about tights and leotards. We all wore them … because Beth wore them. We also all bought split sole dance shoes … because Beth had split sole dance shoes.

Beth’s playlist ran the gamut, from Gloria Estefan and Cher to Michael Jackson and Santana. Her choreography incorporated everything from chasse to salsa and sus-sous to samba. We were never bored or unchallenged because Beth regularly cycled new dances into class and we were always learning new routines.

We even performed a couple of times each year, inviting our friends and families to the studio and hosting a potluck dinner afterward.

Beth loved opera and she and her husband would frequently travel out of town to attend. It was nearly impossible for her to find subs because no one knew her dances well enough to lead the class. One day she asked me to sub for her. I was mortified and said no.

Awhile later she asked me again, assuring me I could do it. Since I have an imprudent penchant to occasionally push myself out of my comfort zone, with a leap of faith, I said yes.

I subbed for Beth for several years, even choreographing my own warm-ups, cool-downs and bodywork routines to music of my own choosing.

Those years were good times. I loved dancing. I loved our class camaraderie. I loved being able to eat whatever I wanted.

My kids grew and began school. Having worked part time during those years, it was now time to find a full-time job. The day I told the class it would be my last week, I cried. Beth’s class had been such an integral part of my life, my health and well-being,

I still have the little silver pendant Beth gave me as a going-away gift — two dancers leaping together.

Back to the dance class I took a few weeks ago. Definitely fun. Definitely a bona fide workout. No regrets. But later in the afternoon I realized I was favoring one hip here, rubbing one shoulder there. And the steps down to the basement felt a little steeper. As reality crept in, I thought, “That was pretty dumb, Carol, dancing a devil-may-care 60 minutes nonstop. You could have hurt yourself!”

Fortunately, after a couple of ibuprofen I felt fine and in the next days there were no lingering body aches following my foolish flirtation with my younger years.

But would I do it all over again? You betcha!

Community Editor Carol Marino may be reached at 758-4440 or community@dailyinterlake.com.