OK, so Zumba may not be the most obvious form of exercise for someone who is uncoordinated, can’t dance, bumps into things and has no musical sense whatsoever. Imagined as a Venn diagram, there is my comfort zone – a circle filled with things like eating biscuits, listening to Radio 4 comedy, walking long distances across cities just for the sake of it, and browsing vintage furniture shops – and then somewhere orbiting that circle, in a similar relationship to the way Neptune orbits the Sun, there’s Zumba. I’ve always thought of dance-related activities as something for pretty, popular girls, not slightly awkward ones like me. But I have to lose some weight and get myself fit enough to walk 26.5 miles in May, 50km in September and – this is only if those haven’t finished me off – possibly 100km some time next year. So needs must.