Gerry’s Class

We are gathered together...can I get an Allelujah Amen?

It started a few weeks ago. I told my cousin Ann I hadn’t worked out all week, almost like I was bragging. Catching myself mid-sentence, I asked: Who even are you right now?

The next morning, the conversation continued. These talks have been much more pleasant lately, a lot like the ones I have with my kid, now that she’s an adult. Not as much scolding or nagging, more of a healthy, enjoyable dialogue. This morning, however, there was gentle concern.

“Girl. You are a lump. You gotta move. Your inertia is making me nervous.”

I agreed and did something radical. I got out of bed and went to Gerry’s class.

Gerry is an age-and-gravity-defying freak of nature who’s been teaching longer than many of you have been alive. Her class is half workout, half spiritual experience, not quietly meditative, but where you’re raising your hands and shouting amen because she gives you something to believe in whether that’s faith in yourself for 60 minutes or the possibility of your butt looking as good as hers.

Despite spending decades of my own life at Life Time, I am terrified to go in. I hope someone will quietly intervene as I come down the hall and say “Oh honey, the Gentle 55+ Yoga you’re looking for is that way.” But I make it. Tracy and Kelly, two regulars, find me a place and set me up in this dark, loud room.

The class starts and the little voice that was so gentle earlier undergoes a complete personality change.

“WTF. RUN. WE’VE GOTTA GET OUT OF HERE, NOW,” it screams.

Through what has to be divine intervention, I stay. And start to move. An arm circle here, a squat there. I look around and realize no one is looking at me, so I jump when Gerry says jump. Not her brand of paranormal human flight, but just a tiny bit of air. I hadn’t jumped since Danny King and his Deksa scan informed me I had the vertical jump of a 91-year-old.

When I finally get to lay down (full disclosure, it’s called a plank), three things happen.

I sweat. Drops hit the mat, along with a forgotten feeling of pride in effort.

I get a whiff of myself. Not a “you’ve gotta pop some tags, your shirt smells like cat urine” smell, but a beautiful aroma that says: Well look who’s here and look who’s alive!

I see another splash hits my mat, but this one came from my eye. I was… happy?

It’s a tear, but it’s also science. When you move, blood pumps, cells oxygenate, and you release more feel-good chemicals than a dispensary.

But biology is only part of the story.

The other part is what sociologist Émile Durkheim called collective effervescence. His idea was moving in unison shifts people to a higher feeling and makes us aware of our collective self, an oceanic “we”, and that we’re part of something larger as we merge with the life force of others- an avenue into feeling wonder and awe. It’s why we cry and get goosebumps. It’s why Gerry’s class feels half workout, half church.

Places where this happens are harder to find these days. We’ve gotten isolated. We used to have what they call “thick” institutions: schools and churches where people come together on a regular basis- and find some sort of rhythm, see the same faces, create familiarity and friendships through consistency.

While “Thin” places are prevelent in today’s society, i

t ain’t gonna happen on Gerry’s watch. She, like so many of the instructors I know, create a space for us to show up and move together. To get out of our own heads (even if it is enjoyable) and be part of something greater than ourselves. To experience that feeling of awe we so crave as humans.

This is not at all exclusive to Life Time. It’s in yoga studios, running clubs, the Y, city parks turned pickleball courts, dance clubs, sporting events. You just have to do a little research…perhaps have a chat with yourself first. Sit down and remind yourself of what you love to do. Am I a dancer? A runner? Do I need to be out in the sun? Water’s my thing. I need a pool.

Answering those questions can point to a run club (who cares if we’re the slowest), a pickleball court, yoga on the lawn…aerobics in the neighbor’s pool. Gerry’s class at 8:30 on a Saturday. And what’s cool? When we find that thing- that thing we love…it goes from foreign to familiar to fun…to friendship. From something we have to do, to something we look forward to…something we get to do. Together.