Strangers in my bedroom

WEEK 49

People are getting creative with their exercise routines during lockdown. The friends who set up family boot camp on their front lawn, complete with kettle balls, weights, jump rope, resistance bands, found objects in the yard. The boxer who attached his heavy bag to the outstretched limb of a tree along the waterfront at the base of the Bay Bridge, punching away, sweaty and shirtless. And just a few days ago, there was the guy at the corner hanging from the crosswalk signal bar, wearing blue surgical gloves and mask, doing dead-hang pull ups.

For me, the monotony of hitting the same stretch of pavement is setting in (though I chant to myself over and over how grateful I am to be able to run and be outside). If I could change one thing, it would be feeling dirt under my feet with a tree canopy overhead. I miss nature.

But as the waiting continues (and continues and continues), inside my apartment is where I will be.

While I am fitness-inclined and adore movement, I have never attempted a legit, gym-class worthy home workout. (Stretching does not count.) Could be that I have mostly lived in open loft apartments without dedicated exercise space. More likely, it’s because I equate sweating with the health club or outdoor sports. So much for old routines.

This week, I brought the gym to me. Specifically, to a corner of my bedroom. My goal was to complement my running – and reverse course on my ever-widening butt from what feels like hundreds of hours of sitting – with a medium intensity, full-body workout. Nothing fancy. A use-what’s-in-reach type of class – because barbells, like toilet paper, have been on back order for months.

I decided to start with free, on-demand videos and ramp up to a paid, livestream session with a trained instructor and workout mates.

Equinox, my expensive gym in New York, kindly paused all fees from the moment the clubs closed in mid-March, and invited members to try what they are calling “Social Fitnessing” through their IGTV channel. From a menu of cool-sounding and beautifully produced videos, I selected Split Work, an ingenious at-home approach where you put your feet on folded towels and slide them along the floor to simulate a reformer machine.

I have found during lockdown that the ceremony surrounding an activity is as important as the activity itself, so before clicking the play arrow, I took a few minutes to make the experience count. Cute attire? Check. Water bottle? Check. I thought about where to position my mat in relation to the instructor. Just like showing up for a new in-person class, I wanted to be strategically centered but not too visible for everyone to see me bungle the moves.

Maybe it was those extra moments of planning, but I felt like I was in the studio with Kailey. She kneeled on her mat, center screen, and introduced her two classmates on either side who we may as well call models – fit, gorgeous and inked. I moved easily in sequence with her clear instructions and calm voice, peeking at the monitor from time to time as the camera leisurely panned the studio, capturing the three of them from different perspectives. It was like working out next to that amazing person with perfect form.

After a few days lost down a rabbit hole bingeing on exquisitely produced on-demand workouts, I was ready to graduate to the real deal: live on video.

I poked around Classpass Livestream, overwhelmed by options: barre, mat, hip hop, abs and butt, HIIT, Zumba, yoga, pilates, indoor cycling, even something called Ukrainian exotic heels — live classes from anywhere and everywhere. I imagined people working out with soup cans and packs filled with books, jumping around living rooms, bedrooms, closets, hallways.

I did my research, read the reviews and paid 5 credits for a high-intensity workout offered by Sweat Health, a gym I’d never heard of in Oakland. I got dressed. Picked my spot (they recommended an 8×8 space). Assembled my props (a chair plus something I could lift overhead). Joined the Zoom waiting room … and at 12:04 pm, the screen flickered and there they were: strangers in my bedroom.

Ashley, the instructor, welcomed us, saying hi to a few regulars and asking about someone’s dog who ran into view. We all waved. Her prior class had gone long, and I found that appealing. Real-life is still happening out there.

I came into the experience with an open mind. Would I feel awkward, either seeing into people’s homes or having them see me? Turns out no – the class was so fast-paced I caught only a fleeting glimpse of the tiny video boxes housing my seven classmates.

Would this feel like a gym class? In short, yes it did, and maybe more so. Ashley’s instruction was pointed and personal – I imagined her as a coach wizard behind the video curtain, calling out plays and setting the interval buzzer, as we did squat jumps and inchworms in a 9-box grid on her monitor.

“Jayme, square those hips,” I’d hear her call out. “Daphne nice plank. Tom why don’t you lift your feet on this next rep to make it more challenging.” She worked us nonstop for 60 minutes.

It was one of those “together apart” moments. And, mostly, it was endearingly human. People doing their best with what they had at home, in the space they could create. A bit crunchy. Not produced. Because of how I had positioned my camera, my head cut off every time I did a standing move. We got tired. I was not the only one who stopped before the last 10 seconds of mountain climbers.

I had fun, and I sweat. If this is the future of gym class, I’ll do it again.