I went to the first “fitness class” of my life the other day.  Until now, I have always savored my work-out independence.  My workouts have consisted of going to the gym and working a bunch of random machines with as little downtime as possible.  This works fine, but is a little unpredictable, and I am not sure what progress I make so much because I never really do the same workout twice.  

I could simply get organized on my own, but that concept has a lousy history, so a friend got me a free pass to try a workout “pump” class.  I was half picturing some aerobics class with me as the only guy, but there were quite a variety of folks at the class, though the instructor was female.  The class kicked my but, and I was even a bit light on the weights I put on my bar.   This was no fu-fu aerobics class at all, but a full on work out.  The instructor was merciless, and we were taxed to even try to keep up.  It was great.  The only problem was that each part to the workout was done to a song, and they apparently have a lousy taste in music, even if they are super fit.