Speed bag! Right cross! Front kick! Wait. What?

In an effort to mix things up a bit at the gym tonight, I went to a kick boxing class. The class was taught by a woman named Libby. Libby has a negative percentage of body fat, the enthusiasm of a cheer leader squad captain, and the energy of a chihuahua on speed. Plus she has a perfect tan. She is a tad frightening. Kick boxing class isn't all about just kicking and shadow boxing. No. There is line dancing involved, too. I could never line dance. I was always the person looking around and going "Wait. Which arm should be I be pointing with? What direction? Oh crap, now everyone's going the other way." This distresses me mightily. Anyway, I staggered through through 45 minutes, sweat like hell, and didn't kick anyone or barrel into any walls. For this I am to be commended.