One of the reasons I wanted to start The Fun Project was to incorporate fun into the daily fabric of my life, as it were; so that rather than reserving fun for weekends, holidays, or when all of my projects are finally finished, it can start showing up in my everyday choices. So, for example, when faced with either 1.) spending all day dreading going on a run only to guilt myself, hours later, into dragging myself out the door or 2.) looking forward to going to a class at our local gym, I might choose (gasp!) the less painful option.

With this in mind, I went to my first Step class, something I’ve always wanted to do but was too scared to try because, well, frankly, I lack basic skills in the coordination department. I am the gal who broke her ankle after falling off of a sidewalk. You know the flat bit of concrete generally considered safe for babies, wheelchairs and runners? Not. So. Much.

No matter. I decided Step sounded a lot more fun than pounding the treacherous curbs and sidewalks of San Francisco and that regardless of how many times I tripped over my step (no pun intended) I would keep smiling and concentrate on having a good time.

And, holy cow, was it FABULOUS. A million times better than running any day. There was so much to take in I hardly had time to concentrate on the moves, evidenced by the fact that the only move I actually mastered was the “Funky Repeater,” essentially, a knee bend. In fact, I was so entertained I completely forgot I was working out (remedied today by my inability to extend my calf muscles at all, which means I either have to walk on my tip-toes or hunched over with my knees bent, a source of endless amusement for a certain someone who keeps asking me to fetch things), something that has never happened before.

Not only were there mambo steps and cha-cha-chas and a “Superstar Pivot”, which was all about who could bring the best Supermodel pose (in my mind), but our instructor sang the moves in time to the music. Which is hard. I know because last night before my Class Reenactment Performance, I practiced forever in the bathroom and still couldn’t get it down. There’s something about counting while changing octaves and staying on beat that was just too much for my brain to process. He was good, people. Really, really good.

Also good? My neighbor’s dance moves. He did not miss a beat, kept his toes pointed and even got our instructor back on track when he lost his place, all while shouting out things like “It’s a Step Emergency!” and “Love it! Move it! Do it!” I wanted to fold him up and put him in my pocket to pull out for times when it’s boring around the house.

As for my performance? Awful. A lot of the time I was so lost I just stood on the step, watching everyone else. The rest of the time, I looked like an octogenarian who’d had a few too many wine coolers. I’m totally going back.