How I found my feet, both physically and mentally

Five months ago, I would have rather died than wave my hands or wiggle my butt to music in public.

In fact, I was silently complaining about back-to-back dancing classes at my gym that restricted the space for my more traditional "manly "workouts — body pump, body combat, love strength and core scaler. OK, maybe love strength is questionable.

As a regular gym-goer, I felt indignant, especially as I was starting to reap the benefits of my chosen classes as my physical strength and stamina improved through barbell lifts and martial arts moves.

I also used to be a follower of old-school aerobics fitness, and hit the treadmill twice a week. However, I was unsure whether I was toning up or getting fatter and used this uncertainty as an excuse to end the "monotonous "running.

Earlier this year, I shifted to group workout classes as a way of easing back into exercise after being infected with COVID-19. The combination of moves with lighter fitness equipment done to the beat of music not only made exercise more fun, but got me back into shape in a very short time.

I was happy, but happiness is relative.

When the strange names of "double dance", "zumba", "pop dance", "body jam" and "jazz party" appeared on the electronic display screen near the entrance of the gym class, I had a sinking feeling my happy workouts were over.

As I lifted weights on my own and observed the dancers contorting their bodies, feelings of resentment and disdain washed over me.

On the surface, dance classes don't seem male friendly, as women make up 70 percent or more of the participants. As someone who hadn't danced since he was a teenager, I assumed the classes would not be physically intense enough for me. But, deep down, I knew that assumption was tinged with insecurity about trying something new.

After two months of being shy about trying the dance classes I took the plunge.

Just as I was about to leave after the end of my love-strength class, the female instructor encouraged us to stay on and take her double-dance session, which she said was the easiest of all the gym dances.

For a guy with two left feet it was a challenge, but I decided to give it a try.

The instructor left to change into a looser jacket and returned with her hair unpinned and hanging down. I was flabbergasted, not by the difficulty of the moves, but by the different person the teacher had turned into.

As promised, the moves were not difficult. I could follow most of them, albeit with some awkwardness.

But the coach seemed to be able to execute each and every action with precision and vigor, which gave her an aura. The visual impact on me was strong, perhaps because it was the first time I had seen a dance coach up close.

Her strong presence was something I hadn't seen in my other group classes or instructors.

I managed to get through the session, sweating a lot and enjoying the vibrant music. As I picked up new dance moves and became more proficient I felt a sense of accomplishment.

I realized that for me, dance was a pain-free form of aerobic exercise. I didn't have to grit my teeth fighting the boredom of running or spend days recovering from an intense workout program like body combat. Dancing was a more relaxing way to get my daily aerobic workout.

As I have become comfortable with the dance class, I've been emboldened to explore other genres, like pop dance.

The instructors and participants seem to have a glow of confidence when they are in action.

They are all happy as they express themselves by synchronizing their movements with the music and interacting with each other.

The joy is infectious. When I feel like doing nothing, a dance session usually perks me up. Most importantly, it helps me discard irrational and irrelevant thoughts and emotions and live in the moment, which is a feeling that is out of this world.