The Day I Walked Into a Barre...

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I wake up to George Michael’s “Freedom! ‘90.” His cool, crisp voice and promise to “not let [me] down” gets me up and at ‘em. I nosh on my toothbrush, change into my short-shorts and jump out the door. I have a barre class to go to.

It’s 6:28 a.m. I walk through the door of the studio and am greeted by Sue Sherburne, the instructor. She smiles. She glows. She has perfect posture. I collect my gear — a gray mat, two resistance bands and a green ball — and sit down. It’s not long until the class fills in, and we’re ready to go.

We begin with squats. Not the bar-bending, chest-heaving, rinky-dinky-you’ll-get-stinky type, but that of the Jane Fonda rump-pump variety. This is silly, I think. I deadlift 235 pounds. I know jiu-jitsu. But the legs get wider, the heels come off the ground and I see my eyes, full of fear, in the mirror before me. This is no Mirror of Erised. I see no candied version of my fitness goals. I see an unbalanced, unshaven kid in an old high-school shirt, languishing on one lunging leg. George Michael’s parting words to me — “I’ve got to live, I’ve got to live, I’ve got to live” — ring through my head.

Sue assures the class that we’re doing well. She asks us to shake out our legs. I obey, and we move to the wooden bar mounted in the front of the room. Sue tells us that barre is all about balance. The core is engaged in every move, while we progressively overload the body from the top down.

I feel a little bit like a ballerina: tall, elegant and sophisticated. One guy further down the line is extending his fingers as they dip to meet his raised leg — the very picture of elegance. He could have the stem of a wine glass between his fingers and not spill a drop.

Balance, alignment and core engagement is what it’s all about, Sue tells us. We can develop our posture and flexibility this way, not to mention muscular endurance and definition. As my hips pulse (should hips pulse?), I believe her.

It’s in that moment that I notice the music. It’s an odd choice, like the ‘90s wormed into today’s hits. I pick up my arms and hail to Ariana Grande as we start using the resistance bands. We curl, row, press and pump. We move on Sue’s counts, her microphoned voice stirred in with Ariana’s, like a sugar cube dissolved in tea.

The core is important, Sue says, stressing balance again. It’s all about balance. We step back to our mats and stand at their ends, our toes edging the foam. I look to my right — a face in the mirror looks back. It can’t be my own reflection, no. That sweat-slimy, greasy-grimy, smelling-like-a-hiney kid in the wall is someone else. I look for him, gazing around the room, but all I see are unchangingly happy people in the RecWell poster looking back. I look to the rest of the class, wondering if he’s suffering further down the line — but my classmates are already face-down, inch-worming out.

I walk my hands to the other side of the mat, racing through a pattern of elbow touches, knee drives and push-ups. Are my abs feeling it? Yes. Am I balanced? More so than ever before.

Before I know it, it’s 7:25 a.m. Sue thanks us for braving the cold to come in this morning. After I’ve cleaned up my mat, I whip out my phone and wonder if she has time for a couple questions. Yes, Sue says. I am sweaty and thankful.

She tells me that most of barre is about core strength. She likes to build intensity in a muscle group to the point of exhaustion — my legs remember their shaking from earlier and agree. Sue tells me how the class has helped her in day-to-day tasks, like running and carrying groceries; I imagine its use in slaying giants, picking fights with bouncers and scaling Mount Everest. The youthful gleam of my forehead sweat mirrors the twinkle in Sue’s eyes as she talks about her exercise philosophy:

“I hope that people work out to enhance their wellness, and not do it because ‘my body has to look a certain way,’ or ‘I have to look a certain way.’ Really, I’m hopeful that it’s connected with our health.”

I shake Sue’s hand and walk out of the studio. I notice the smile on my face, the stillness in my body and a subtle sense of accomplishment; just then, another string of lyrics come to mind: “We won the race, got out of the place/ I went back home, got a brand new face.”

It’s 7:45 a.m., and I’m a balanced, new man.