September is Charcot-Marie-Tooth Awareness month. CMT affects 1 in 2,500 people and I’m speaking up about how this neuromuscular disease impacts my life and my fitness. I’m stronger than the obstacles I face. You can’t choose your genetics but you can choose your attitude.
Catch up on My CMT Story here:
I’ve never been very graceful. As far back as I can remember I’ve always bumped into things, stubbed my toes, slammed my hand in the doorway and tripped over the carpet. Charcot-Marie-Tooth is notorious with causing a lack of coordination and balance, and I was no exception to this.
In 2007 I joined my high school cheerleading squad. I was a junior in high school and a bit late to the athletics game (pun intended). Despite having zero athleticism, I was actually halfway decent at this sport because it used my mind more than muscles. Most of the cheers was memorization, and the actual moves were stiff. The fact that I had no rhythm didn’t matter because everything was strict to the beat. The only time I stood out in the crown was when when my double jointed elbows faced the ceiling instead of the crowd. Oops. Who knew I could actually contribute to throwing a 120 pound girl in the air and then catch her before she splat on the ground? I enjoyed cheerleading for two years, and then attended a college in the forest with no football team and no cheerleading squad. We only had one dance each year and it was very technical dances. I didn’t have to worry about swinging my hips or complicated steps. I didn’t have to over think it.
Flash forward to local pageant orientation held at a dance studio. Struggling to keep up with complicated dance steps, tripping over my feet, and falling behind in rehearsals, I have a panic attack and walk out. I’m not a dancer, have never been a dancer, and vow to never try to dance again. I accepted the fact that I am the most uncoordinated person in existence. But it’s not my fault. There are times when I have no feeling in my feet and lower legs, or on the flip side days when they are tingling. My brain sees the moves but my body just doesn’t keep up. I constantly feel like I’m moving through jello.
Often times at races the director will recruit a local gym to give a warm-up. I’ve found that Zumba is a go-to choice. Until this year I had no interest in Zumba. I can’t dance, period, let alone dance with latin flare. No way, Jose, will anyone see me shaking and moving before a race. Count me out.
Until this year.
My gym membership comes with unlimited classes. I had considered going to some pilates classes or a yoga class, but in truth I am not a fan of guided workouts. I much prefer to go in with my own plan and stuck to my own schedule. I’d seen Zumba on the schedule but had absolutely no interest in it. It terrified me. I was intimidated by the sound of it.
I was at No Excuse Mom one day and another mom mentioned Zumba class at the gym I attend. It must have been at the end of class, I was dehydrated and lacking blood in my brain because I asked her for more information. Her favorite instructor was during a time when I wouldn’t need to check the baby into childcare. Hmm. Before I had time to think, or convince myself otherwise, I had agreed to give it a shot.
I am the worst Zumba dancer in the existence of over. I embarrass myself just thinking about how terrible I must look. I am probably going to go in one day and have the Z-Squad kick me out for being so horrible. A lot of times I am left standing there with no idea what is going on, and making the most perplexed facial expressions. But in the strangest way, I actually really enjoy it.