It was 7 am on a Saturday morning when my alarm sounded. The pounding headache, the unsteady vision, and the smeared mascara under my eyes confirms that I, Caitlin Reagan, had lived my Friday night to its fullest potential. After one cup of coffee, two aspirin, one bowl of cereal, four glasses of water and a quick drive across Gandy Bridge, I found myself standing in the group fitness room of the YMCA beginning a 90-minute cardio-strength conditioning class.
“Up, down, up, down, alright everyone! Go! Go! Push it!” the instructor yelled to everyone. Her motivation was unusual—the demeanor of a pyramid-schemer. She was sly, steadfast, and domineering all while maintaining her smile and composure.
With my flushed cheeks and Sir-Mix-A-Lot thumping through the speakers, I fist-pumped one dumbbell back and forth in a squat all while trying to ignore the water fountain in the back of the room.
Humorously, I thought how oddly similar a group fitness class reminded me of the night before—a Friday evening full of friends, booze, and bars.
Just like a fitness room, a bar was set up the same way with wood flooring and wide-open space. Typically one person remains in control and in a bar that would be the bartender. In the fitness class, the instructor. Everyone obediently listens to the instructor to secretly seek their approval just as a thirsty customer would by desperately trying to make eye contact or fanatically waving their credit card in their air to grab attention.
As I nervously check myself out in the mirror, I also casually compare myself to the other participants. Are my arms aligned correctly? Are my thighs as big as that women’s? Why do I look so uncoordinated?
And at the bar: How does my hair look? Do I look fatter than that other girl standing over there? I’m really not a good dancer.
And while Sir-Mix-A-Lot may not be the most popular artist in a bar currently, surely any beat-thumping song from the eighties would suffice this analogy. Perhaps it is not the music that remains similar but rather the volume of the music. In both environments, the music is so loud that very little verbal communication occurs. In a fitness room, well that’s pretty much the point—to focus on your body but in a bar, socializing usually requires verbal communication and less focus on nonverbal communication—er….perhaps, I’m choking on my words here.
Perhaps the most obvious similarity between a Friday night and a group fitness class is the way in which one prepares for the event. While I clearly took several precautions to ensure the class’s success through hibernation, hydration and medication, Friday nights are very much the same.
It begins with one long afternoon nap, then maybe a beer, two shots, a quick update on your Facebook status, followed by a couple more shots until finally you’ve achieved enough of a buzz that making an appearance among about a hundred other people in a dark, smoky, crowded bar seems appealing.
“Alright, everyone put your weights to the side and sit down on your mats,” the instructor said.
“Now breathe in and lift your arms up in the air,” she said while taking a deep breath and stretching her arms up over her head. “And just relax…” she uttered as she let her breath out.
The remaining 30 minutes included an unusual version of yoga—unusual because techno continued to pound through the speakers as I struggled to find my SheiKra. But without fail, this too reminded me of the conclusion of a Friday night. The night most likely concludes happily but unusually—people slurring their words, walking unsteadily, demanding pizza all with techno blaring through the speakers.
Group behavior, in sociology, receives very serious attention and with that said, I’d like to note that the stark contrast between a very sober experience (pushing yourself to the limit in a high-intensity aerobic class) and an intoxicating one (drinking excessive amounts of alcohol in a crowded room) has essentially the same outcome. Just putting that out there….
This article appears in Nov 4-10, 2009.