I had a pretty rough day at work.
By the time I got home, I was drained. I really didn’t feel like doing much of anything.
But I had Pilates that night.
And damn it, I was going.
So I came home, changed into my exercise clothes, ate two chocolate chip cookies, had a smoke, and headed to Pilates.
You know.
Health.
Even sitting in the parking lot, I still wasn’t feeling it.
For a minute, I seriously considered just going home.
But I ventured in.
I was running a little late, and when I walked through the door, my Pilates instructor and the other woman in my class were already on their machines and right in the middle of a conversation.
My instructor, whom is absolutely the cutest thing. She’s this beautiful woman with short, curly red hair, beautiful soft skin, and the softest voice.
She’s pretty awesome.
She looked over at me and said something along the lines of, “Come on in, get on the machine, hook up, and get going.”
So I did just that.
Now, I’m still pretty new to this form of Pilates, so strapping myself into this contraption still feels a little weird.
But there I was.
Feet in the straps.
Doing my leg lifts, squat thingys.
Doing the frog position.
Feet straight up in the air.
Minding my own business.
And somewhere in the background, I hear something about an aquarium.
Okay.
I keep going.
Squat.
Frog legs.
Squat.
Frog legs.
Then I hear something about snails.
Apparently, snails are hermaphrodites.
Now we’re talking about how they reproduce.
And baby snails.
And suddenly I’m listening.
Because apparently there is a point during Pilates where you can be lying on your back with your feet straight up in the air, feeling the burn in the backs of your thighs and your butt, and still think:
Wait. What did she just say about the snails?
At this point, I discover that this woman has an aquarium full of them.
And she is really into snails.
She knows how they reproduce.
How they have no ears.
How they have magical mucus.
What they eat.
What temperature they like.
I mean, she really likes snails.
And you know what?
I can appreciate that.
I really like sharks.
So I’m feeling her.
Eventually, I decided to stop minding my own business and join the conversation.
Obviously, I had something important to contribute.
“Hey, you should name one of them Turbo.”
Because come on.
Turbo is an awesome name for a snail.
Plus, my grandson and I used to watch Turbo when he was younger, so in my mind this was a very solid suggestion.
I don’t remember getting quite the enthusiastic response that suggestion deserved.
Apparently, she already had a favorite snail name.
And its name is not Turbo.
Which is really sad.
For the snail, mostly.
Anyway...
Somewhere after Turbo’s rejection, the conversation moved on to witchcraft and witches.
I couldn’t tell you how we got there.
Then somehow we were talking about painting and art.
Meanwhile, we’re still doing Pilates.
At this point, I’m pretty sure we had completely lost track of how many squats or frog-leg thingys we had done.
It was a lot.
My ass knew it was a lot.
But the funny thing was, I was completely invested in the conversation now.
I had walked into Pilates exhausted after a shitty day at work, barely wanting to get out of my car.
And now I’m strapped to a reformer learning things about snails I had never once thought to ask.
Eventually, we released our legs from the contraption and moved on to our arms and pulls.
And the conversation just kept going.
Snails.
Aquariums.
Witchcraft.
Witches.
Art.
All while three women are pulling straps, doing squats, stretching, and exercising like this is a completely normal way to spend 45 minutes.
And maybe it is.
I think what I took away from Pilates that night was this:
I walked into Pilates drained.
Forty-five minutes later, nothing about my day had changed.
But I had.
I felt lighter.
Maybe growth isn't always some huge, painful realization.
Maybe sometimes it's learning what brings you back to yourself—and actually making yourself go when you'd rather sit in the parking lot and go home.
So if you don't have a little place where you can forget about your shitty day for 45 minutes while discussing snails, witchcraft, art, and God knows what else...
I mean, are you even living?
And for the record—
Turbo still would've been a better name.
