crank up the fog machine

Check out the cornucopia of autumn goodness I bought at Westborn today. I got three kinds of squash, avocados, mangos, plums, apples, and sweet potatoes. All I need to do is spill it out of a big wicker horn and stick a pilgrim hat on my head.

So I think I'm just not cut out for workout videos. I've attempted two different yoga DVDs in the past few days and ended up losing interest, laying on the floor, admiring my tattoo, and playing with the dogs. I wondered if it was residual brain fog from the Lyme disease that I just couldn't pay attention, but then I realized that I've never liked workout videos. I like real live yoga or spinning classes at a gym, my treadmill at home, or doing landscaping outside (lifting bags of mulch, digging big holes, hauling patio bricks, mowing the lawn). But to stand in front of the TV and mime a video? Not so much.

Except for one.

I was in the garden this evening, moving around some perennials, when it hit me: I used to LOVE step aerobics in college. And the video I loved more than any other was Gin Miller's Step Reebok, The Power Workout. This was back in 1993, when step aerobics were a new concept, and the video was on VHS. Neither the internet or DVDs had been invented yet, and I was 23 and a figure skater, in fantastic shape with a cute perky butt. I'd whip through the routine four or five times a week, wearing weights on my wrists to make it harder. My, how times have changed.

After a little research, I discovered that Gin Miller has a website and a myspace page now, and offers all of her original workouts on DVD, plus has new videos I've never heard of. Whoo-hooo!

VHS tape from 1993; current DVD version.

So I hauled my dusty step upstairs, the same one I used back in the day, sorted through my tapes and actually found the workout, and popped it in my VCR. Sophie and Sadie, not fans of my working out to begin with, were all "good, grief, she has props now?"

The tape started up and the familiar music began. There was Gin! The cool, dark, MTV-like set! The fog! And all her cheerful stepping friends! Suddenly I was 23 again, caught up in the spirit of a forgotten video. I was grinning like a moron. Until reality set in.

I don't remember it being so hard. I really don't. Am I really in that bad of shape? Apparently so. This workout is high-impact, with lots of leaping, none of which I'm allowed to do with my still-healing foot. So I modified the whole thing as I went, stepping gently and doing absolutely no jumping. It was still hard. Really hard. I sweated and panted and marched in place when I needed to catch my breath.

And you know what? I loved every minute of it. Bless you, Gin Miller. Bless you.