I miss my Monday evening Step class. I don't really miss having to prepare for the class or going to the class at all. Actually, I am very happy not to be teaching on Monday nights. What I do miss are the people who came to class religiously for 3+ years. Some of them would come and leave (kinda like a old trick). Some of the ones who left came back later. Some stayed for the duration. Each and everyone of them seemed to enjoy and be dedicated to their workout. That's why I miss them. I adore anyone who comes to class and has a great time and gets a workout, NO MATTER how negative I am at times.

I miss teaching to the 6' tall, gorgeous Asian man who would come to the front of the class to take step. He was amazing. Not only could he step; he could do very intricate and difficult variations to my routine. Things that I would never ever do myself, let alone teach to my class. He once told me that I was the best instructor ever; I was flattered and slightly turned on. Did I mention how gorgeous he was? Wonder if he knew that he was an inspiration to me?

I miss teaching to my friend Elissa. She is definitely an inspiration. She has been taking my classes forever. She has taken them through both her pregnancies and continues to take my class when she can. At one point, she rearranged her entire schedule to make it to my class. Thank goodness that I cannot get pregnant because I would definitely use it as the excuse to do absolutely nothing. Thank goodness that we continue to be friends outside of class.

I miss my teaching to the cute boys at 14th Street. I had quite the number of attractive men who took my class and made it a easier to teach. Sure they came and went and came again. But isn't that what cute boys do? God I miss them.

Finally, I miss the energy. I seem to attract an energetic crowd for my step classes. I like the fact that the people who come to my step class see it as a way to forget their problems. I used to ask the class to leave their "drama" at the door and, for the next 45 minutes (or so), just worry about working on their fitness and themselves. That it's not about that person that wronged you at work or the woman who cut in line at the bank or the homeless person who berates you for not giving him change. Maybe to some degree, the "steppers" did heed that advice, came in to have a good time, and went on their way. I would like to think so.

Of coures, there are exceptions to the rule. For example, the Upper West Side steppers. God, they suck. Later.  ¶ 9:22 AM