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Fitness

July 8, 2020

Sarah Madaus

This Is a Love Letter to At-Home Workouts

Quarantine has taught me to push myself out of my comfort zone.



Picture of adult woman practising yoga at home

Kamil Macniak/Adobe Stock

After work one evening last fall, I decided to use up my remaining ClassPass credits on a barre class nearby. I had taken barre a few times before with varying degrees of success, so I felt at least decently prepared for what was to come. The instructor, an energetic, tall woman wearing branded leggings, a matching sports bra, and the grippy socks they always try to sell you, gave me a rundown of the class after I told her I’d never visited the studio before. It sounded fine, fun even. But as we got started, I realized that it was Not Fine and also Not Fun. I have the flexibility of a steel beam, so every lift, pulse, and plie was met with the snap, crackle, and pop of a different body part. I couldn’t keep up with the speed at which sumo squats were being performed and was always two steps behind during the rhythmic aerobic portions of class.

The instructor touted the class as a celebration of all bodies, but all my body felt was embarrassment. I imagined that every pastel-wearing dance mom was judging me, that my athletic frame and genetic predisposition to excessive perspiration did not belong in the room. After class, I rushed out and swore to never return. As a former field hockey player and current cycling instructor, I vowed to stick to w