Hip Hop in the house? I mean, gym?

Darn. Missed my weekend runs that would have taken me to my weekly goal of 15 miles. Of course I can explain. First, I crashed into a median Friday night and got a flat tire. So I didn't have a car all weekend. Then, like a drug addict who just cant get enough, I relapsed hard with The Man. We spent practically alll weekend together. Bad. Bad. Bad.

HOWEVER!

I saw my co-fitness instructor-in-training Martina's week-old baby. He's preciously perfect in every way. I'm in love. I'm not even upset that six days after giving birth she already weighed less than me.

Last night I was in kickboxing class. Martina and I decided this would probably be the class we taught, but it's too bad I like it less than spinning, body sculpt, yoga and practically everything else. What I really want to teach is...HIP HOP!

My gym -- whose clientele is probably 90% to 95% white -- doesn't offer hip hop. That could be a good thing. See, maybe that means I dont have to be really, really technical (not saying white people can't dance, exactly...). Maybe I can dance good enough to start up a class. I'm possibly checking out a class in Philly on Sunday and another local class in a couple of weeks. I'll get more of a feel if I can handle it.

I was fantasizing about this last night during kickboxing and I continued to fantasize about it at home. So I started cleaning my room and listening to a new hip hop CD I'm reviewing. Then I began to dance...

In front of the mirror, hips shaking and hair swinging, I made up routines for my own private music video. I puffed out my butt so it'd look bigger than it was and I shook that too.

I believe JLo said it best in the opening credits to her new reality show: The life of a dancer is not always an easy life but if you love what you're doing, it's worth it.