Who’s Your Crew?

By the time the ball sank into the hole at the “sudden death” shootout, I couldn’t have cared less who walked off of the golf course wearing that dang green blazer. If you’re ever lucky enough to be invited to The Masters Tournament, as my husband and I were in 2005, I’ll give you a tip: BRING SUNSCREEN. I’d naively left mine in our Atlanta hotel room, and quickly learned that the Georgia sun is capable of burning rain, a heck of a lot of fog, and the top layers of skin on this ignorant spectator. As the crowd erupted in cheers, John reached his hands out to double-high-five mine in celebration of Tiger’s win. I interlaced my fingers in his, pulled him close, and implored, “Get me outta here.” I spent that evening splayed out on our hotel room bed, begging the fan to cool me and dousing my singed skin with aloe. We hopped a plane the next morning and I haven’t been back to Atlanta since.

The day after we returned from Georgia, I gingerly laid the straps of my spandex top over my scarlet shoulders and beelined to my gym. Never mind that throwing punches in a kickboxing class might not have been the best remedy; I knew the sweat might sting but I’d find relief in the company of the people who, like me, showed up, day after day, for more than just a workout. We came to get stronger, of course, but also to help each other navigate babies and breakups, illness and in-laws, and everything in between, including my stupid 2nd degree sunburn. And it worked; I walked out of the gym that day feeling more soothed by my buddies than any balm I’d been slathering on my blistered torso. I’ve always been more inspired by the people in a group fitness class than by the pursuit of a perfect body. I’ve done every kind of group fitness class, in whatever city, state or country I’ve lived, and it’s always the same: Whether I’m sprinting up an incline at bootcamp or holding a pigeon pose at yoga, the one thing that my group fitness classes have in common is the people: My Crew.

In March, when the pandemic shuttered the doors to the pilates studio where I’d found my latest haven, I was less upset about the potential expansion of my waistline than I was with the indefinite loss of my community and, frankly, what was often my only daily human contact. With the kids all but grown and a husband who travelled for business most weekdays, my life as a housewife was already pretty isolated were it not for my daily escape to an exercise class. I was skeptical that interactive online classes would be a decent substitute; there’s hard science behind the energy that’s transferred between people in a shared space. But I soon found that it wasn’t just a comfort to flee to the dark panelled living room of our old English rental home to exchange lockdown tales, lament greying roots, and burn off some steam with my local Crew. It was a lifeline. We were doing our best to stay connected as normal in a time which was anything but. And while I was content in the new routine, things were about to get even better.

As each monotonous day spilled into the next, I started noticing something downright exciting. A beloved fitness instructor from the place we call our second home came out of sabbatical to offer a Zoom class. All of the sudden I wasn’t just working out alongside my local British Crew; my Spanish Crew began making regular appearances in my living room as well. Then I saw some of my favorite teachers from the U.S. offering live classes on social media, and I found myself working out with old friends that I haven’t seen in years. My American Crew was in my Quarantine Casa, too! Each day I marvelled to think that there I was, tucked away at home, physically apart from but beautifully connected to dozens of my favorite workout buddies from around the world. And I didn’t think it couldn’t get any better than that. Until it did.

One day, frustrated that the time difference between the U.S. and the UK didn’t allow me to take a friend’s class, my need for a workout overruled my desire for personal connection and I jumped onto a Zoom with a teacher I’d never seen. And the exact thing happened that I’d been so skeptical about at the beginning of the pandemic: The energy of a complete stranger came right through my computer screen, and I felt as if I was right there in a studio in which I’ve never stepped foot, sweating and shaking, exhilarated and inspired. I opened the link and took that teacher’s class again a few days later. And then again. And again, until I realized that I wasn’t the only one repeatedly joining from afar. I began noticing the same faces popping up, day after day, in those squares on my laptop. It was just like every time I’ve joined any new class; before I knew it those unfamiliar faces became friends, only this time not because we were in the same place every morning but because we showed up from living rooms, kitchens, hallways, and backyard retreats, across cities, across states, and across an entire ocean. As I’ve continued to log in, bolster and banter with my new group of friends, it’s not lost on me that I would never have had reason to know this other Crew that’s helping me slog through the pandemic were it not for the pandemic itself. I wouldn’t have recognized any of their faces had I passed them on a street beforehand, but you can bet that I’d know each one of them if we were to cross paths today. Which I hope to make happen someday, once we’re able. I mean, I’ll probably never be invited back to The Masters, but there’s no question that I at least need to make it back to Atlanta and actually step into the studio that I only now know on a computer screen, but which has become another one of my favorite escapes. I owe my wonderful new instructor a huge in-person hug, not just to thank her for the fantastic workouts, but for the Crew that’s come along with them. Don’t worry, my shoulders will be ready for that embrace; this time I won’t forget my sunscreen.

My Corona Crew could be someone else’s online book club, playgroup, or weekly happy hour; I just happen to be drawn to a bunch of fitness junkies. If I can make meaningful connections and even expand my group of friends though the magic of the internet during this trying time, seriously anyone can. It isn’t just a silver lining to this whole debacle. That, right there, is pure gold.