On my drive over to the about-to-open Velocity Performance Training Health and Human Performance Center in Monterey, I questioned my masculinity. To successfully complete Zumbathon for a Cure I would need to execute a dance comprised of Shakira-like hip swings and Carnival-inspired booty shakes. Uh oh.
Upon arriving and seeing my dance group was all women, my fragile – and sexist – mindset screamed at me to leave.
But I stayed. And I paid. Dearly.
The Zumbathon raises money for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society – a nonprofit funding blood cancer research, education and patient services since 1954 – with 120 straight minutes of the aerobic exercise, an increasingly popular style that originally hails from Columbia and combines Latin, hip-hop, samba and kickboxing moves, among others, to provide a grueling workout practiced by 14 million people worldwide.
I awkwardly sat in the corner hoping not to be noticed by other dancers or, more importantly, by people I knew. Kelly Hilker, mentor at the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society and organizer of the Zumbathon, saw my uneasiness.
“Zumba is a party,” said Hilker, who will also be group exercise coordinator at Velocity when it opens in two weeks. “You don’t realize you’re working out.”
Loud cumbia started and the workout began instantaneously. Everyone seemed to know the exact step, hip swing and hand movement for each note of music: A leg kick for beat changes, claps during percussion sections, and hip movements when the music got sensuous.
Everyone except me. I edged myself to the back of the class.
I tried to follow the instructor’s steps but that didn’t work, so I attempted to replicate the moves of the pregnant woman in front of me. But even she was too quick. I was lost in a world that was neither dance nor muscle spasm.
But a few reggaeton songs later, I started to come a little closer to the instructor’s pacing. After I sang and clapped along to a Pitbull song, I realized I was effectively faking pretty much everything except the booty shake. I even stopped avoiding eye contact with the instructor.
Twenty minutes in, I was sweating profusely. My hamstrings started to burn from the leg slides, kicks and spins; my abdomen felt like I was getting punched from the constant contortions of my core.
But I would soldier on, if only out of that misplaced masculine pride. Then my undoing: The instructor yelled “Sexy!” and an insane sequence of fast-paced booty shakes and hip swings followed. For almost 10 minutes. It was at around the half-hour mark – which felt more like a century – that I surrendered in shame and returned to commiserate with my gym bag.
Marty Ozaeta, owner of Velocity Performance Training Center, saw my early exit and asked me how it was going. I gave a meek half-chuckle. Seeing he was being sincere, I told him zumba was more than I bargained for.
A former outside linebacker at New Mexico Highlands University, Ozaeta agreed, telling me he believes zumba is harder than any workout he ever did in collegiate football or boxing.
Being a former cross country runner and soccer player, I was accustomed to hard training too. Now I suddenly felt as if none of my athletic feats compared.
“[Zumba] works on coordination, footwork and balance,” Ozaeta says. “Every sport you play comes from your hips and core, and that’s what you’re working in zumba.”
Velocity – which opens Sept. 21, when the next Zumbathon happens – will also offer personal trainers and boot camps, pilates and free weights, all while promoting the same underlying message to foster a healthy well-being that carries outside of the training facility. (With a projected earning of close to $500 at the first Zumbathon, the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society will be hosting another fundraiser with the Blood Cancer Concert Benefit at Planet Gemini on Sept. 5. The two fundraisers will add to the more than $800 million in funding the national Leukemia and Lymphoma Society has raised since its foundation.)
“I like to help people, that’s what I do,” Ozaeta says. “Some of the main causes of cancer are bad eating habits and lack of exercise. I just want to tie nutrition and exercise in so it can be fun.”
Post pep talk, I got back to the Zumbathon – where we delved into lunges, quick foot movements and squats – and made it less than 15 minutes before hamstring and ab cramps prohibited me from going on. Turns out I just wasn’t man enough.