Namaste, baby!

I recently decided that my exercise routine needed a bit of a boost...a little something different to keep things interesting.  My lovely wife Laura took up yoga a couple of months ago, so I decided that I would join her on Sunday mornings at the gym with Jessie, a friendly yoga instructor who takes her yoga practice seriously, but doesn't take herself too seriously.  Sounded like a fit to me, so off we went.

In the first class, I decided to take a place on the floor as far away from Laura as possible, so as not to embarrass her with any of my less-than-proficient newby yoga moves.  I walked into the room, and with as much stealth as a jaguar, took my spot in a far corner. Far from Jessie, and even farther from Laura.  I rolled out a borrowed mat, crossed my legs and tried to look like I belonged there.  My plan went completely to hell when Jessie called me out as a new person, then proceeded to spend the next 5 minutes, talking directly to me, in front of the rest of the class.  Cover blown.  All eyes on the chubby new dude.  Awesome.

Just trying to blend into the background.  #epicfail

So class number one went relatively well.  I will say that I spent the entire time focused on not falling over versus on my breathing.  I'm not sure that I ever once 'invited the breath in'...in fact, I was doing all I could to stop it from escaping.  Some poses were pretty OK, and others, WTF?  Is the human body supposed to bend like that?  Holy man. Anyway, the hour ended, and on the ride home, Laura seemed a little miffed that I positioned myself so far away from her.

At my second class, a week later, I decided to roll out my borrowed mat right beside my lovely bride. I was completely amazed and wildly impressed that she is so limber.  This chick can bend in half at the waist and put her forehead on her shins. She can lay on her back and bring her shin to her nose.  Who knew?  As the class progressed, I was very focused again on not falling over, and on trying to remember to breathe.  About 15 minutes in, I was attempting some twisted maneuver that involved a crazy lunge, one hand on the ground and another in the air, when out of nowhere, I hear, "Pssst...Pssst...Psst."  I looked around to catch the gaze of my lovely wife who then informed me in an angry whisper that I was doing it all wrong. Argh. 

Umm...no.

The pssst-ing went on for another 10 minutes or so.  I knew I was doing it wrong, but I just couldn't quite get into the required position, so I either bent my knees, or dropped a knee, or backed off a stretch.  Laura, thinking she was helping me, was just stressing me out. On top of sweaty and groany, I was now pissed off. I may be the only person in the history of yoga to actually growl. Gandhi would have been so proud. Eventually, she stopped trying to correct me.  On the ride home, she looked right at me and said, "It looked like you didn't really achieve a state of serenity at yoga today, honey."  I pulled the car over and left her at the side of the road. OOOOhhhm.  Serenity now. Serenity now.

I now own my own mat and I like going on Sunday mornings.  I feel pretty good when I'm doing it, and I feel really good after.  I still don't do very well, but I'm getting there. There are poses I like and poses I dread.  I do like the 'rock and rolls', where you roll your legs back over your head.  Perhaps it's the frat boy inside of me, but when somebody inevitably passes wind during a rock and roll (last week someone let a really loud one go), I'm amazed that the entire room doesn't erupt in laughter. 

Check out this video: "If Gandhi Took a Yoga Class" It's funny, but there's a bit of swearing

Namaste, baby.