Tuesday nights
As I was in yoga today, particularly sweaty (fun fact, my own sister once told me that I get ‘sweatier than any woman she’s ever met’… ouch), when I found myself flashed back 6 years ago living in Denver.
6 years ago, I was poor. I wouldn’t say that I make a ton of money now, but I’m comfortable enough. When I first started out? We are talkin’ paycheck to paycheck. I had just moved out of a very bad random roommate situation to live alone, and I was definitely figuring out best ways to live on a budget. One of them was cleaning the yoga studio to get a very discounted rate.
So every Tuesday, I was at the Corepower location one block from my apartment, mopping down mats and wiping mirrors and (brace yourselves) cleaning very dark hair out of shower drains (my hair is light so, innately, darker hair grosses me out… there’s no pretending it might be mine) from 7:15-8:45pm.
Fortunately, every Tuesday from 6:15-7:15pm, Mike also taught.
Mike may be my favorite yoga instructor that I have ever taken to this day. He had an absolute cult following at Corepower. Yogis would come from every location in Denver to take his Tuesday evening class. The vibes were always, always high. And it helped that Mike liked me. What can I say?? At the risk of sounding egotistical (very frowned upon in yoga), I have a very impressive practice.
One Tuesday, I ran late. I usually had time post work to dash home, change, grab a granola bar, and then make my way over to Mike’s class. This was back in the day (aka pre covid) when you did not sign up beforehand, but instead gave your name/ membership tag/ phone number to the front desk. First come, first serve. And that class filled up fast. Which meant that I had to hustle if I was going to stand a chance at making it. Because no chance in heck was I missing a Tuesday Mike class.
Fortunately, I had worn a sports bra to work and had an extra pair of leggings in my backpack. All that I didn’t have was a mat. Oh crap. And a towel. But remember… I was poor. And Corepower charges you for rentals. Also remember… sweaty. I am a very sweaty girl. That Tuesday, my refusal to spend money won out over my fear of sweat. Big mistake.
I made it to the studio in the nick of time, ran upstairs to where I knew the dirty mats were, washed one down, and dashed into the studio to lay it down and save myself a spot (perks of my - basically - free labor job). This class was gonna be rough. These CP rental mats had absolutely no stick to them. Eh, whatever. I’d survive. I went and changed into my leggings and returned to the room for my pre-class stretches.
20 minutes into class, I was silently cursing myself for my refusal to spend $3 on a towel. I couldn’t hold any of my warriors. My feet were sliding around everywhere on the who-knows-how-many-years-old communal mat. My face was steadily dripping to the point that I could barely see.
“Inhale!” Mike called. “Exhale!” Frickin heck MIKE! How am I supposed to BREATHE when I can’t even SEE!
His class that night was a particularly challenging mandala flow, which means circular. You start facing the front, then you make your way through your warriors to instead be facing the back. Around the second time through, he passed me, “Beautiful Larkin.” Yeah, frickin sure, Mike, I doubt it’s that beautiful when my inner thighs feel like they’re going to give out just from keeping myself on this gosh darn mat and not falling on my frickin face. I completed the backside of my mandala flow, and when I reached back up into my warrior 2, my foot hit something. What??
There, on the front side of my mat, was a beautiful, white, Corepower towel. And there, already making his way to the other side of the room, was Mike. Towel-less.
I did not bother with any of the polite “oh, no, don’t worry, I don’t need it” or “wait, are you sure” nonsense, and graciously accepted his gift, laying it down along the front half of my mat so my feet could stand a chance on this slip n slide.
Thank you for the towel, Mike. I still remember that kind gesture 6 years later.
