So, I am starting out strong today. In the worst way possible.

I originally thought I would be doing a welcome post or maybe an explanation post to what this blog is going to be about…But plans change. And I am learning to go with the flow.

The CREATIVE flow. So let’s do this!

Today I went to Barre class. It’s August 1st, so I wanted to start the month off strong. Stick to my commitments. For those of you that don’t know, as you are probably just meeting me, this month marks the last month in a year dedicated to my health. So I wanted to make sure that I made it into the gym.

I was still filled with a little bit of stress and anxiety that comes with my day-to-day job and the decisions one would make as a fragile unhappy 30-something-liberal-arts-major, but I plowed through the chaos in my own head into the gym to go get my toeless sticky yoga shoes on. Waiting outside the studio for class to begin, I b-lined for the normally unoccupied door to make sure I could sneak in the back to get my “normal spot.” By normal spot, I mean a place in the front next to the short person’s bar to ensure that if I lose my balance I hit a wall and not a person.

Now yoga class in the studio before us usually runs late and I noticed that in order to get my favorite spot, I usually have to stand around waiting for someone to pack up there 101 yoga items off the floor. Sure, do I have to wait 5 extra minutes? Yeah, but it’s worth it for that sweet front spot. So of course, when I walk in, there is a woman foam rolling on a yoga mat surrounded by all of her stuff. And when I say all of her stuff, I mean, all of HER stuff. Shoes, bag, phone, keys, personal yoga mat, ect.

And I think to myself, “Meh I’ll just put my stuff down right in front/next to hers and collect the rest of the equipment I need while I wait for her to finish.” No big deal. I slap my mat down, smile at her, mark it with a water bottle and asthma kit, and run over to try and telekinetically reach the teacher’s mind to predict what I would need to pull out of the closet for class.

After some time wrestling bands, balls, straps, weights, and whatever hell else we use, I fumble over to my spot. I notice that my yoga friend moved her things slightly behind me and is still foam rolling. Jeeze, I think to myself, she is going to get caught in the middle of this class. I don’t think much more of it as I set-up my items and start playing with my FitBit.

Time passes. The instructor is now here. Great I think to myself as she starts to try and pump us up for the next hour of bendy hell we are about to get put through. (By the way, who signs up for this shit?) As we start to squat, my yoga friend leaves nonchalantly out the door, leaving behind everything. Sprawled. I know this because I am have to do a stretch that requires me to bend down and place my face between my legs.

At this point I’m confused. You left your life on the floor behind me. Don’t you need your keys? Are you going to stretch the whole class? Who is going to pick up your life? What is happening?!

After about half-way through our first song, my friend comes back in. “Ok,” I think to myself as I wince in pain from my jacked up injured form squat, “This is it. She is finally going to make her way out. I better be careful when she goes to pass me.” And then I wait. I wait through the first song. I wait through the second song as we transitioned to weighted squats. I then realized, “Oh crap. She staying for the class.”

Yes. Here I was, so focused on WHEN she was going to leave, that I didn’t ask myself, IF she was going to leave. And that’s when the guilt set in. I literally bumped her out of the spot. I didn’t talk to her, I barely acknowledged her. I just put my mat uncomfortably close next to hers and then walked away.

Of course, me being me (My name is Rusty, nice to meet you in Blog Post #1), I spent the rest of the class trying to figure out when and how I could make it up to her. Maybe when we stretch with the straps, I can get her eye contact. Or if we do the seated balls squeezes…oh no she just moved to the Tall bar. DAMNIT.

This guilt went on for at least 20 minutes, adding to the already painful experience of just trying not to buckle under the torture the instructor laid out for us.

When we finally did end class, I wiped off my sweat and went over to her so that I could apologize for essentially colonizing her location. I now have the task of trying to get the attention of a small boomer aged woman, who obviously is a powerhouse doing yoga and barre back to back. She is putting away the mountains of stuff she had sprawled out and is facing the floor. I squeak in my best millennial adult voice I can muster, “Hi. I am so sorry for kicking you out of your spot, I didn’t realize you were going to take this class too. I feel so bad.” She looks up with a huge smile is on her face. And I just made a new friend.

She shook my hand and we exchanged names. I’ll call her J for anonymity sake, but she and I ended up talking about barre and yoga. Her experience with it and my ankle injuries (the whole reason I like the front spot). It seems I now have a friend who will save me a spot for next class and the pleasure of a good conversation.

Moral of the story? Well I guess it’s that sometimes being oblivious will open up the doors to new opportunities. Or make you seem like an asshole. Or sometimes you bump into things because your spacial awareness is off. Or you injure both your ankles that started the slippery unhealthy slope to obesity that you are now digging yourself out of.

But this time I made a friend.

So in conclusion, if you need a lesson on how to be oblivious here is how to do it: just tune the world out while you focus inward on yourself. This will ensure that you forget about everything else that is going on and ignore everyone…Oh shit.

Has my Fitbit been tracking the barre workout this entire time?