Still reeling from the death of Elke Vossen

More than a year later, I am still stunned by the death of YMCA fitness instructor Elke Vossen. This wild, red-haired German ball of energy entered into my life in early 2001, shortly after the birth of my second child, when my husband encouraged me to take early morning fitness classes. This strategy was going to help me fit exercise into the early part my day, so that I would have the rest of the day to get work done. I arrived at the club, bleary eyed, at 6 a.m., and the check-in person informed me that the class was on the sixth floor, near the basketball court. After trudging upstairs to 6th floor, I saw that my classroom was at the far corner of the basketball court. I set up my exercise bike and had no idea about how wild the ride was to be. With her husky German voice almost at a scream, I felt like I had entered the realm of a crazy person who was not going to ever end the class, and would never let me escape the room. How Elke differed from other spin instructors I'd had in the two years since I had started the sport was how totally she threw herself into the workout. She herself worked out with such total abandon that it was infectious for the rest of us admiring souls who wanted to be just like her. For nearly eight years I attended her Wednesday and Friday morning spin classes, as well as her yoga class after the Friday spin. I often would show up a few minutes after class started, and that unmistakeable "ho-ho-ho" or "use the body" would greet me at long distance through the microphone as I approached the classroom.

Over the years she grew from being just a fitness instructor to a role model. She traveled back to Germany twice per year, and all of her students would lament how much we missed her. We were happy -- almost relieved -- when she would return, rewarding our wait with sackfuls of German chocolate bars. She would distribute these during class, walking around and setting a small pile on the floor in front of each biker, like a sweaty Easter bunny.

I never met her socially outside of class, but a few memories stand out about things she said to me at the Y. Once she approached me while I was stretching after class in another area of the Y. She said, "You have such beautiful, strong legs." I was touched and flattered at this spontaneous compliment from someone I so admired. In 2008 I began to bring family members to the Y, so that they could also meet her. I sent my husband to work out in my place one morning, while I took care of the kids. I also brought in my son Tiernan, age 13, a few times. On one of those occasions Elke advised him to "kick your mom's butt!" (he took her advice). I had planned to bring my daughter Tacy, age 7, to meet her one evening after I picked her up from the Y child care downstairs, timing the meeting to occur before Elke's step class. Tacy attends a German immersion school, and for years I had been telling Elke about it. I thought she would be proud that my child was learning her native language. The day before this meeting was to occur, I attended Elke's early morning spin class, which began as usual, with loud exciting music and Ron, a regular in class, ribbing Elke that she ought to quit walking around and work as hard as the rest of us. I was on "my" bike in the front row. A few minutes into class, Elke was standing up and biking hard, when she sat down on the bike and I thought I heard her say, "My foot." The next thing I knew, she was lying on the floor next to her bike, and several people had rushed to her side to see how they could help. She lay motionless, unable to speak. An ambulance showed up and she was carted off on a stretcher. None of us had any idea at the time how serious her accident had been. A major stroke kept her in the hospital for a week, with doctors frantically working to save her. A Caringbridge website was set up to allow friends and family to follow her progress. The posts, maintained by friend and fellow fitness instructor Tammy Jacobson, said she was not improving. A week later, our beloved Elke, aged 53, was dead.

Its been over a year, and although other instructors have resumed Elke's classes, the Y is not the same place without her. Her force-of-nature personality brought so many diverse people together, working towards the common goal of peak fitness, that the loss was tremendous. I think being in the front row of class and witnessing Elke's final words and actions added to the impact on me. We still miss you, Elke. RIP.