By Rhiannon Koehler 

Chicago self-isolation, Day 11— By now my boyfriend and I, stuck in our 400-square-foot studio, have gone through our television and movie watch-lists, stuffed ourselves with take-out, and pretty much murdered our puzzle/boardgame/book collection. Work takes up some time, but today is Saturday. We’ve been getting on each other’s nerves.

I’m planning on doing yoga today. I’m desperately trying not to gain 300 pounds while being largely immobile.

I say, “I’m going to try a vinyasa yoga video, do you mind?” He shakes his head. “No, I’ll just be playing a game.” This is the only time he gets these days with his friends back home, in England. And he puts his gaming headphones on.

Six feet away, I roll out my yoga mat, prop up my computer, and hear the soothing voice of my online yoga instructor.

Start your practice seated, if that’s available for you. Just cross your legs, and take a large breath in. Try get the length of your inhale to match the length of your exhale.

Inhale. Exhale.

Yeah there’s another dead guy by the box. There. By the box. The BOX. By the store thing.

Ignore it. Keep going.

Now we’re going to do some large circles with our shoulders, just to activate our spine—

What fires up a flare? I know, I just put it on my gun. Fucking hell, this is taking ages. I shot him fucking twice, somehow I didn’t kill him.

And we’ll reverse the direction. Just trying to loosen the spine. If your mind starts to wander, just bring it back to the present—

They’re going into that—INTO THAT BUILDING! He’s shooting at you! I’m all the way up the stairs…

And set an intention for your practice, releasing expectations for you, for me, and for the world.

My intention is to approach today with calmness, sensitivity, and to be in the present. I breathe in and out, deeply, with intention. Everything has been so scary lately—I really need this thirty minutes—

I saved Caleb last time, so it’s on you. As long as I don’t die right now. FUCK! OH MY GOD! MATE! THAT IS BULLSHIT! DID YOU SEE? I DID THE FUCKING HEARTBEAT SENSOR TOO AND NONE OF THEM POPPED UP! BULLSHIT. FUCK’S SAKE. Right as I was about to get you in here, too. Oh, well.

I open my eyes. Should I stop yoga? Do this later? The thing is, this gaming could last one hour, or it could last eight. Nobody knows. If I stop, COVID-19 wins. I close my eyes, vow to keep going.

And coming back to center, place your feet behind you, and we’ll meet in downward dog.

Nice one, mate. Mate, mate—they’re below you. They’re below you. OOOOH that was a fucking helicopter! Shit! That was a nice one.

And here in downward dog, let’s bend the right knee a lot, stretching back into our left heel. Do you feel that release? I feel the release—this is so relax—

FUCK! ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? I’m SO pissed off… might just want to run, mate. OH SHIT! Mate… uh… FUCK! I killed somebody and then immediately—ugh. There’s going to be two of them there.

And take that right knee, pull it in towards your chest, look forward, and step that knee through your hands to the top of the mat.

I’m in the Gulag. Let’s see… yeah, you got a gas mask. What the FUCK.

I’m here. I’m focused. I got this.

Alright. I’m out of the Gulag.

I wish I was out of the Gulag. This is the worst yoga practice I’ve ever had.

Now we’re going to shift our weight forward, straighten up, and raise our arms to come into our low lunge.

I feel the release. It’s amazing how a little movement can solve so much stress—

Not really sure where I should go… Farmland? I think I’m just going to drop in and try to pick up some guns.

And now we’re going to shift, just follow me gently, into utkatasna, chair pose. I stumble a little bit on this one, I need to improve my balance—

OH SHIT! They’re both right around that corner, FUCK! Nice one, mate. Did you get both of them? Fucking hell. Everything is rinsed. HA!

From chair pose, let’s reach up, try to get a bit more space… I’m reaching. I’m reaching, I’m reaching so far up I can almost feel my spine decompressing… relaxation is imminent—

Mate—alright there mate! I killed him! OOF! That was a close one. I landed on the building—and he was already in here. You’re in the same building as me? Mate, yeah, I’ve got fuck all. I just killed him with a rifle.

And now, see if you can raise your left foot—I try, I can’t. I stumble, and fall. It’s a larger thud than I’d like to admit to. I wait for the next plan of attack from the man in the gaming chair next to me, but hear only silence. 

I look up, and see him looking at me, concerned.

Mate, sorry, I’ve got to go.

He turns it off.

“Are you okay?” he asks. He’s being very nice in not laughing at my less-than-stellar-yoga.

“Yeah.” I say. “I didn’t mean to make you stop, I wasn’t trying to be passive aggressive or anything, I just feel like a giant slug these days—” He stops me, shaking his head.

He’s smiling. “This can wait. Let’s finish that together. What was it? Ski pose?”

“Chair pose.” I say, and start the yoga video again. I love this man. He’s next to me, actually trying. We get into chair pose, reach up, and don’t fall over. He looks at me. “Nice one, mate!” And he’s right. It is.