In not-so-hot water

Want a fun workout that is easy on the knees? Try aqua aerobics. This is about the age range in our water class.
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Cue the dramatic opening notes of Strauss' "Thus Sprach Zarathustra" for an important announcement: for the first time in my life, I have been going to the gym regularly for months.

Of course, I've been paying gym membership for years. Actually, since 24 Hour Fitness was Family Fitness, and they opened the facility on Palmdale Blvd. Hope always sprang eternal, and I knew I would get serious someday. Who knew it would take 20 years?

That's a sweet racket they have going. It's like insurance; I pay money in case the unexpected happens and I want to work out. I got a good introductory rate, and it seems cheaper to pay the amount to keep my options open. In addition to my $29 a month, I was paying $9 a month for my two daughters and their father to not go, also.

Inspired by an extremely fit coworker, I went for a spell in Lancaster during the late 90s. At 4:30 a.m. Ladies, if you can drag yourselves out of bed at that hour, you find gaggles of firefighters.

But a knee operation put the kibosh on those trips. I tried hobbling in on my crutches for a while to lift weights, but the logistics became too much.

After I had the heart scare, I decided that I should get serious. Besides, the wedding was coming up, so I thought I might take off few pounds. I don't know about the actual numbers, but I lost enough inches that the seamstress is having to alter my gown.

My crappy knees left me precious few choices when it came to cardio, so I headed for the pool. My older daughter went for a few sessions, and she was the youngest person there. You can tell how old people are by how they react to the music.

Our leader, Malyn, has a iPod stuffed with variety. I'm digging the OutKast, the boomers are singing along to "Rock the Boat" by the Hues Corporation, the Latina ladies sigh when Julio Iglesias comes on, and at the first strains of Sinatra's arrangement of "Something's Gotta Give," the over-70 ladies swoon, "Ooooh, Frankie!"

The pool is next to the steam room and the whirlpool, and the whole area is like a Margaret Mead study of suburban culture. If you're looking for hardbodies, try the free weight room. Around the spa looks more like an Alma-Tadema Orientalism painting of a seraglio, only the women aren't as good-looking or young.

The only fit people are inside the steam room. Young, cocky males with bulging biceps and tattoos use the window to watch themselves flex, insuring that those sitting in the spa see every muscle ripple, and every grimace.

The rest of us are all pretty much in the same leaky boat physically, except for the 20-something Suicide Girl who sashays back and forth from the steam room to the drinking fountain to make sure we all get a good look at her purple string bikini and myriad tattoos.

So, foam water-weights in hand, we do our jumping jacks, jack-knives, and snowboards in the water, thrashing around so the foaming water looks like it's full of piranha.

This image from amazon.com shows the water weights we use (only ours are all blue...).

I love being in the water, and I love the way I feel afterward. Now, when I don't go, I feel the difference. It's helped my knee, too.

Buy you know what I don't love? Zumba! And for some reason, the club keeps replacing our regular classes with this trendy blend of belly-dancing, cumbia, and aerobics set to world music.

That might be fun on land, but it doesn't translate in the water. Also, you don't use weights and it does nothing for your upper body or abs.

I could dance around at home, and I wouldn't have to endure the preternaturally cheerful young woman who leads this class. Sweating like a pig because she's doing the moves OUT of the water, she grins like a Cheshire cat the whole time. That ain't right.

I need to write a letter to 24 Hour telling them how much I like Malyn, and her calm, drill-instructor-like persona. I don't want to lose anymore classes to this fluff.