my worst workout moment.
it's so hard to look directly at it.
I went to a new gym the other day—just for that first free class goodness. I always feel weird talking about working out, because I don’t think I have exactly a healthy relationship with my body. BUT I’m working really hard (I’ve BEEN working hard… for years) on having a better relationship. If anything, most of the time, I think I look hotter than I am.
But other times I’m really hard on myself. It gets dark. Working out is a lot of different feels. I do get insecure and I hate being weak and I hate having to buy new pairs of pants when I grow out of them. I love running and I want to get to a good place to start training for the NEW YORK MARATHON. (eeeek!) So I workout. It’s good for my mental health… mostly.
I don’t think it will be a shock to anyone that I am not exactly smooooth at most exercise—especially organized dance or extreme sports. In this new workout class last week with new people, I lifted weights and did squats whilst looking at myself and remembering all my exercise foibles. The time that I fell asleep in shavasana in yoga; the time I went to an early morning workout and realized about a half-hour in that my leggings were on inside-out and the white liner they have in the crotch of some lady pants was on the OUTSIDE of my crotch; and then I remembered my most mortifying experience…
Back in 2011, when we lived in Jackson Hole, we had a birthday party for Evan (my husband now, then boyfriend) called the Eye Patch Olympics. This was the first annual EPO. Evan has one eye (shameless plug, there’s a short documentary about it), so each year for his birthday we would have people get in teams of three and wear eye patches and play all these games that require some kind of depth perception and Evan would just dominate. These were the best celebrations, because all day friends would come up to Evan and say, “This is so hard! You’re amazing!”
For the first EPO, our friend Joe joined our team. Evan decided he wanted us all to have mustaches and that be our team uniform. I got a fake mustache, Evan shaved the day prior, but this was news to Joe. Evan gave him a towel to shave in and Joe begrudgingly shaved his beard off in our bathroom into that towel. We honestly looked amazing.
And had SO much fun. (crazy to think this was almost exactly 13 years ago. Evan was turning 27!) They first Eye Patch Olympics were SUCH a success. We all laughed into each event. At the end of the games, our team was majorly in the lead, but we decided that we shouldn’t win. We gave the win to the team with the next highest score. Joe looked at us in shock, “I SHAVED A MUSTACHE FOR THIS AND I DON’T EVEN GET TO WIN??!” He got over it.
A few days later, I went to a morning hot yoga class down the street. I grabbed my mat and my towel that I kept by the front door and walked to class. I settled in in the middle of class with my mat and folded towel. Hot yoga has always been the class where I unabashedly wear the shortest shorts and just a sportsbra. I don’t even pretend to wear a shirt. I get too hot too fast and let’s just call this what it is and no one look too closely at me and I won’t look too closely at you.
It didn’t take long for me to really heat up in class. I started sweating and grabbed my towel to wipe off. I wiped my face. I wiped my chest. I wiped my arms. I sweat more—all over my body—and I wiped myself off more and more. I wiped my belly. But then I started to itch. I was trying to focus on myself in the mirror, but I started to feel too distracted by the itching. Focus, Rachel. Focus.
I couldn’t do it. I finally looked down and—to my absolute horror—I saw that I was covered in hair. Small red shaven hairs. Evan had put Joe’s towel that he SHAVED HIS BEARD OFF INTO by the door BY MY YOGA TOWELS and I had grabbed THE TOWEL FULL OF HAIR. (even now 13 years later I’m gagging thinking about this moment.)
I was sweaty and COVERED in itchy red hair. I was frozen. I didn’t know what to do. This was my Carrie moment.
I spent a few beats on the edge of tears before I just wiped up as much hair as I could (knowing that there would be SO MUCH left on the floor and the teacher was going to be so disgusted/confused) and packed up and left class just 20 minutes in and never ever went back to that yoga studio. I marched back to our apartment and found Evan there thinking he was having a calm, beautiful spring morning—NOPE. It was about to get real yelly.
Obviously, we’ve gotten over this mortifying/disgusting mishap, but we do still reference it every so often when Evan shaves his own mustache these days. And I know that no matter what happens in any workout class, in any gym, it will never be as bad as the time I had The Red Shedding in hot yoga. (🤢)
*shudders still.*
Quick Hits:
Jam of the Week: Blondshell – Docket (feat. Bully).
(I am really into this brand new single: “my worst enemy is me” is not an original thought, but somehow it feels so right and fresh in this song.)
An Incredible Writer/Teacher.
(I took a class with Joe Wilkins this week and was taken aback by his writing and his teaching. I highly recommend either.)
Parenting Is Witnessing.
(I needed/loved this.)These Are Adding To My Nostalgic Feels That Spring Always Brings.
(I love art.)Speaking Of Confidence And Our Bodies.
(my god I love her.)
(Marcelline and Evan have done some major surgeries lately on her well-loved lovie—Roary—and so this made my heart so happy.)
Stop The Lights!
(my god I love these guys.)Happy Almost Easter!
(ha.)I Cannot Stop Singing This Song.
(I know it’s a few years old, but it’s so effing funny.)
Life is so messy and funny and tragic and beautiful. Thank you for being witness to mine a bit. Thank you for being here. You’re amazing.
xxo,
rachel.