"Free at last! Free at last! Thank God Almighty, we are free at last!"

The sweat rolled down my temples as I took in these famous and powerful words. On this particular occasion, I wasn't hearing them in school or watching the speech as it was replayed on TV. No, this time, I was stretching my hamstrings on my workout mat on the aerobics floor of the Club at Green Hills in Nashville , Tennessee .

You might be wondering why these words are what I heard instead of say, a nice, relaxing cool-down song by Sade, Erika Badu, or Jewel (did I mention it was 1994?). The credit goes to my aerobics teacher, an amazing man named Marcus.

Marcus was one of those people you felt you needed to get to know immediately after meeting him. Every pore of his body exuded friendliness, kindness, encouragement, and approachability, all qualities that are excellent for life in general. But take those same qualities and apply them to a fitness teacher and that person-and their classes-becomes absolutely magnetic.

I discovered Marcus shortly after joining my gym. I noticed an extremely long line of people waiting outside the aerobics area and asked what was going on. "Marcus is teaching next." Hmmm. Who was this Marcus person who caused women-and men-to clamor for a step like it was the Hope Diamond? I didn't participate in his class that day, but my interest was piqued.

Truthfully, I was intimidated by group fitness. When it came to working out, I was a complete doofus back then because I'd never had a formal exercise plan (yeah, yeah . I know). I'd also never taken any type of organized group class before, partially because I'd always associated aerobics with fit, perky women (definitely not me), and partially because I'm about as uncoordinated and choreographically-challenged as Patrick Swayze was pre-Baby. And I was twenty-three. Translation: I was convinced the whole world was watching me and waiting for me to make mistakes everywhere, even a few silly missed steps in an aerobics class. So I wasn't about to make myself look like a complete ass for the sake of cardiovascular benefits. But I eavesdropped on Marcus's classes from my treadmill vantage point and one day, I finally decided it was time to give it a try.

I had fun that day. I didn't get all the steps, but I got a lot of them, thanks to Marcus standing near me to show me how it was done. I noticed that he paid quite a bit of attention to the newer people, in a way that seemed to fit just right with each person's personality. For example, he seemed to be able to sniff out those of us who were a little more self-conscious, so he'd move just close enough to make sure we could see the moves, but he'd stay far enough away so he didn't draw attention to us.

Eventually, I became a regular to his classes and I actually mastered a lot of the moves. My body changed, but more importantly, how I felt about myself changed. I could keep up with the perky, fit women! I was a contender! I began to chat with Marcus occasionally after class and I learned that he rode his bike to Nashville from Murfreesboro , Tennessee (thirty-four miles!), then taught step and spinning back to back, then rode his bike back to Murfreesboro . I was awed. I noticed the effect he had on people at the gym (people waited ten or fifteen minutes after his class just to say hi to him). I liked how encouraging and friendly he was to every single person he talked to: "Those squats are paying off!"

Marcus always made his classes special. Every once in a while, we were prompted to look on the bottom of our steps for an envelope. The person with the envelope won a prize: a bottle of champagne, a bottle of wine, or maybe a gift certificate to a bookstore. He brought cakes for us to enjoy post-class to celebrate students' birthdays, weddings, new babies, or relocation. There were poetry readings on special days (like MLK Day), book recommendations while we were stretching, and even invitations to rugby parties (he played).

Then one day, the bad news came: Marcus would no longer be teaching because he'd taken a new job that would prevent him from teaching at his regular time. When he announced this, there was a collective gasp in the room. What? No more Marcus? What would we do ? How would we exercise without Marcus to guide us? It occurs to me now how selfish we all were, thinking only about how this would affect our lives and not about the opportunity that Marcus had in front of him. Apparently, mine wasn't the only life he'd made a dramatic impact upon.

There was a party for him on his last day and I was determined to tell him how much he'd changed my life by making exercise less intimidating for an average-bodied girl like me. Without knowing it, he'd encouraged me to try new things (spinning) and he'd coached me through some things in our passing post-class conversations ("you can't make your thighs smaller with just spot-training . you gotta do cardio too!"). I felt better and more confident than I ever had and I know without a doubt that all of that started with Marcus.

But when I approached him, I got shy. Suddenly, the thought of confessing all that to this man I only knew through my gym made me feel like a big dork, maybe a little stalkerish, like those crazy fans who gush and cry when they see Michael Jackson. So I just said, "I'm really going to miss you. I've loved taking your classes." Very dignified. He hugged me and thanked me. That was the last time I saw him.

Fourteen years later, I've experienced classes taught by instructors in cities all over: Atlanta , San Francisco , Chicago , London , New York , Seattle , and now back to San Francisco . Though I live in one of the fittest cities in the world, I'm still an average-bodied gal, though that's not from lack of interaction with some of the best teachers in aerobics, spinning, yoga, Pilates, kick-boxing, weight-training, and a host of other classes.

But as fantastic as they all are, not one of them can hold a candle to Marcus. He was the whole package, my alpha and omega of fitness and positive reinforcement. Maybe I discovered him at that exact moment in my life when I needed a little encouragement from someone other than a tiny woman wearing a workout thong who obsessed over every calorie she put in her mouth. I'm not sure. What I do know is that I still approach every new teacher with an open mind, but in the end-always-I measure them against the Marcus barometer.

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