My Yoga Students are like Red Sox fans ... the best in the world
I'm writing this for my fellow Bostonians and Massachusetts residents, or really anyone who has a soft spot for our little Commonwealth.
This past Monday, Massachusetts gyms, fitness centers, and yoga studios received the green light to open their doors after being closed and quarantined for nearly four months.
Despite strict regulations on class sizes that laugh in the face of "breaking even," moving ahead with opening up highlights our community's ability to pivot once again in order to show up for one another.
And I don't just mean the businesses.
Yogis and fitness enthusiasts everywhere have turned to Zoom and On-Demand classes offered by their favorite studios in order to stay connected, stay supportive, and stay sweaty during the pandemic insanity of 2020.
This "Phase 3 Re-Opening" is like a team and its fans, forging ahead to the championship game, their collective energy and determination blazing the path.
I re-opened my studio this past Monday.
In Massachusetts, studios are required to maintain 14 feet between yogis in a group class.
Which means, based on the square footage of my yoga room, we can fit nine people in that one class.
Nine.
As in, not even double digits.
And I'm not alone here in Massachusetts nor around the country; we're all holding tiny classes to control the virus' spread.
As each of the nine yogis entered the studio on our first day back, my eyes welled with tears. We gave knowing nods that gently whispered, I'd hug you if I could.
Teaching my yogis an old school, hard core hot yoga class was incredible, especially in the yoga room at my studio. The students exuded steadfast intensity amplified still by their gratitude.
And yet afterwards for me, something just felt ... empty.
A let-down.
A yearning.
My heart ached for more people while rationally I understand that busy classes won't be happening anytime soon.
All night after teaching, my mind circled around the pang in my heart wondering why it was there, a fly unsuccessfully searching for the best place to land.
And then somewhere among dinner, bedtime, and a hundred emails, I made a connection that only a Bostonian would make:
Our first day back felt like the goddamn home run Aaron Boone hit off Tim Wakefield in Game 7 of the 2003 ALCS.
If your heart just dropped when you read Aaron f^@%!' Boone, then you know exactly what I'm talking about.
By being back together in person, we got a taste of business pre-shut down, just like we got a taste of beating the damn Yankees and making it to the 2003 World Series.
We'd come so far.
We'd done so much.
We'd worked so hard.
We'd believed so deeply.
And in reality, we still have so much further to go. This is just the beginning.
We have training and scheduling and grinding and focusing.
We have marketing and evolving and advertising and adapting.
We have policy changes and tough decisions (ahem, Nomar) and 9-person classes, and of course ... the unknown still ahead.
We wonder, will we survive this thing? Just like we wondered, are we really cursed?
As we make these tough decisions, we also feel the way you keep the faith in your studios, in your favorite local businesses.
You may not understand why things are the way they are, but in a year from now or two years from now or at some point, the seemingly questionable move was actually allowing Dave Roberts to steal second base.
It was to keep the dream alive.
These moves right now are allowing business and yoga to continue.
And you know what? We feel that faith.
The way you support and check in with us, the way you continue to show up and take classes on Zoom, on-demand, and in our studios, the way you stay connected have given us this unwavering grit in order to put our heads down, get to work, and make this all happen.
My yoga members make my studio the special place that it is; without our community, we'd pretty much just be a big hot room.
You are the real heroes.
Now Bostonians, do you remember the satisfaction and downright pleasure of the 2004 post-season?
I mean really, when you think of the dire situation in which the Red Sox found themselves:
- Down three games to none
- Down to their last game
- Down to their last inning
- 1918 seeming further and further away
- About the lose the American League Championships to the Yankees yet again...
And somehow that team, they prevailed. They persisted (an unsubtle nod to another Bay State shero).
The heartbreaking downfall that evaded the Red Sox the 2003 American League title only served to set the stage for the most powerful championship comeback ... ever.
2003 made everything about 2004 that. much. sweeter.
All the pieces and the players - Terry Francona, Dave Roberts, Cowboy Up, A-Rod swiping the ball out of Bronson Arroyo's glove - merged to create the most exhilarating win for the Red Sox and their fans for years and years to come.
That year, the Red Sox prevailed for a sum greater than its parts.
They were coming back from Aaron f^@%!' Boone (seriously, how can you not say it that way?!) stronger, smarter, more adaptable, and more resilient than ever before.
The 2004 Game 4 victory against the Yankees (and 5, 6, and 7 for that matter), proved that the Red Sox were working for more than just themselves.
They were working for their community.
They were grinding for the prayers and dreams and excitement and love from Red Sox fans everywhere.
Right now more than ever, we feel our communities behind us. We know how deeply you want us to survive because our survival directly affects your survival.
We believe so deeply in our core that our yoga classes have the power to save lives.
Maybe they've even saved yours.
Which is why with your faith and our determination we're going to make sure our studios see it through to the other side of this.
I'll admit I cried when the Red Sox lost the 2003 ALCS. In fact, I sobbed. And in 2004 I found myself so emotionally and energetically invested that I prayed, along with the entire Red Sox Nation, as Dave Roberts slid under the tag of Derek Jeter ... safe.
Those prayers, that energy, they mean something.
I'd like to think my little yoga studio is like the 2004 Boston Red Sox: gritty, determined, resilient.
Maybe it is.
But one thing I know for sure is that my yoga community is unquestionably like the 2004 Red Sox fans, the best in the world.