Yoga was my first real experience with group fitness classes. Sure, I had been dancing with groups of people for years. However, while I was dancing in college my intention was to be seen, to be noticed, and hope one of my dance teachers or peers would give me the nudge to continue dancing past college. Spoiler alert: I never got the nudge to continue dancing. So I didn’t.

I fell in love with the practice of yoga because it helped me turn inward. Up until that point in my life, my primary movement practice — dance — was all about extending outward. When I was on stage my body needed to emote for the audience. When I was presenting a piece I choreographed, the movement and narrative needed to stand out to others in order for me to receive a decent grade or to be selected for a show. Yoga, in my early years, was a solitary practice where I worked out my own stuff on my mat.

Of course, I’d smile and exchange pleasantries with those around me in the studio. But my main purpose was to show up, move my body, tune into my breath, probably shed a tear or two, and then be on my merry way. Yoga didn’t have a social component for me. That is until I did my first teacher training. Simmering away with a group of 30+ people for three months is sure fire way to create community. After my first training I found myself scheduling yoga dates with my newfound yoga friends. Becka’s class Downtown on Friday later afternoons. Ella’s candlelight class at the Uptown studio on Sunday evenings. Once I started teaching yoga, my yoga datebook got more and more full and it eventually took a toll on my practice.

After many years of cross contaminating my yoga practice with my social life, I started to lose the spark of my practice. It became more about who I got to place my mat next to and less about turning inward. I didn’t realize it at the time, but I needed a break from group practices.

With time I learned about the importance of a home practice. To this day, it’s my preferred way of experiencing my yoga practice. No pressure to wear the latest and greatest yoga apparel brands. No internal expectations to do big, flashy shapes. Just my yoga mat and me and all the messy stuff that might arise.

In 2016 I was invited to check out a brand new group fitness gym in Downtown Minneapolis. The classes involved running on treadmills, swinging kettlebells, and lifting heavy dumbbells. It took a lot of convincing to get me into my first class, and I am eternally grateful for the coach who gave me the push I needed to enter that gym. That gym changed me. The classes and coaches taught me that I could conquer physically and mentally hard things. The best part was that I was conquering those hard things right alongside a community of other people who were also physically and mentally strong. I met some of the most amazing people in that space. Even on mornings when I wasn’t up for the challenge, I knew my community would be there to lift me up and help me get through the toughest of workouts.

Sadly that gym, like so many other businesses, lost out to COVID. Since its closure, my fitness routine has gone the way of my yoga practice — done in isolation. I run alone. I lift weights alone (unless you count my incredibly needy kitten who believes that sets of heavy barbell back squats are the ideal time to be held). Although I miss the community of my former gym, I do really enjoy working out alone. My many jobs require me to give a lot of attention and energy to others. My solo workouts, just like my solo yoga practices, help me replenish myself.

This past July I found myself itching for a change in my fitness routine. I had completed my fourth half marathon and my training schedule didn’t have to be as rigid as when I was training for the race. I found myself in a cycling class, a fitness format I hadn’t taken in probably close to a decade. Even though I was internally cursing at myself within the first 15 minutes of class, I left that cycling studio feeling like a new person. It reminded me of the importance of group classes.

After that first cycling class in July I attended another. And another. I also found myself taking a few group strength training classes. Rarely did I know another person in the room. Often the coaches didn’t know my name. But I knew I was in a room with other people who were showing up for themselves. The look of yeah, we just did that together on our faces is the beautiful aftermath of doing something hard together as a community.

As a group fitness instructor myself, I have been loving the process of shutting off my brain and letting someone else tell me how to move my body. I also know group fitness classes are what my spirit needs right now. Everything around me feels really difficult. There’s a lot of heavy stuff going on in the world. Life has thrown a few unfortunate curveballs my way in the last few months. Sweating my butt off while trying to keep up with the beat of some EDM track on an indoor cycling bike in a dark room full of complete strangers is exactly what I need at this point in time. I have no clue what my neighbor to my right is going through. I don’t know what struggles the person on the other side of the cycling studio has been through. What I do know is that we’re all showing up, doing our best, and having this experience together.

Although COVID closures and quarantines were heartbreaking for all of us, I believe it reminded us all of the importance of human connection. It’s important to be in community with others. And whether you find that connection in a cycling studio, in an art class, at a music festival, in an AA meeting, or while doing your yoga practice, all that matters is that you have the opportunity to be in community with others.

As much as I crave alone time, humans aren’t meant to live in isolation. Humans are meant to experience life events, whether big or small, with other humans. For instance, I was at a funeral earlier today. It goes without saying, funerals are full of sadness. During today’s service the attendees were asked to pull out their hymnals and sing a number of songs together. I always found it odd that those attending a funeral were often asked to sing. I never feel like singing when I’m sad. But today I found a strange sense of comfort in hearing a church full of grieving friends and families sing together. Hearing the voices of others reminds you that you are not alone in your grief. You are in a community of people who are collectively grieving.

I suppose, in a fairly unstructured way, this all me just reminding you (and myself) that when things feel hard it’s important to show up for each other. Show up in your yoga classes. Show up at your place of religious worship. Show up at your neighborhood coffee shop. Show up at your local library. Regardless of what the world throws at us, just show up for each other.