There's No Zen in Yoga!
I decided to begin an exercise routine. Not a high intensity one, something gentle, and easy on my joints and heart. Yoga, that would be the right exercise for me.
Let me say here and now, yoga is not for the faint of heart, nor, should it be thought of as easy, or wimpy!
I went to one of our local classes and was allowed to participate in 1 free beginner yoga class. I walked in, and introduced myself to a cute as a button, 20 something yoga instructor. She gave me a 200 watt smile and said excitedly, "Welcome! Everyone is in their place, come up here in front, there's an open spot here."
The open spot, was at the front of a class full of 27 ladies, and 2 men! I sat down on one of the mats and looked around. All of the students were sitting with their legs stretched out in front of them, their arms, beside them, relaxed. They were laughing and chatting with one another.
I watched as the instructor walked over to a cd player and pushed a button. Soft, relaxing music filled the room. How lovely, I thought. I am liking this already!
She stood in front of us and put her hands together, and bowed her head like she was praying. This should have been my first warning! I should have taken that que to actually pray! Things began to move fairly quickly after that.
We began with the Mountain pose. We stood, with our feet shoulder width apart, stretching our arms straight up in the air, for 10 breaths. Easy peasy. The instructor, called out Downward Dog, she effortlessly bent down from the waist, and began walking her hands forward, while keeping her bum up, eventually making an upside down "V". OK, I can do that, I bent down, my fingers could touch the floor, Yippee! I attempted to walk my hands forward like my instructor, but when I did, I lost my balance, my right leg flipped out from under me and my foot made contact with my partner who was minding her own business, finding her zen. I kicked her right in the nose! I realized something bad had happened, because my toe began to hurt, and I could hear a collected bunch of gasps all around me. I regrouped, and flopped myself over in time to see my neighbour, hand over her nose, eyes squished shut, and blood dripping between her fingers. Oh no! I crawled over to her and told her I was so sorry. Another girl helped her up and out of class as I sat there stunned. The instructor jumped down and ran over to me, telling me not to worry. She rolled up the bloody mat and suggested I move to the back of the class. I wanted to move out of the class!
The music started again, and the instructor acted as if nothing had happened. They did a series of moves, Tree, Pigeon, Cobra, and the Bridge poses. I myself, invented my own. Face Plant, Oh, I see I have a huge hole in my pants, thats nice, London Bridge is Falling Down, "I have to hold this for how long? Aah, going, going, gone, Elbow Rub, kind of like jumping out of a moving car, but not so much fun, and my favourite, Chin-ny, chin-ny bang bang, not to be confused with dancing in a mosc pit!
The rest of the class seemed to be handling the movements fine, I of course, was grunting and groaning, not to mention a few expletives that escaped my mouth. While contorting myself into a number of poses, all I could see were backsides, I said to myself this was a gynecological dream, just bring your own speculum.
My daughter calls me 30 times a day, without fail. She should be calling me anytime I thought, why wasn't she calling now? I needed an excuse to escape this insanity. Of course, she didn't call.
I was beat up at the end of 45 minutes, my hair was stuck to my face, and my nose hurt from falling flat on it, my chin was scraped, my elbow was bruised, and my bum, let's just say it will take a day or two to recover. We began our cool down phase, and our instructor told us to "Go to our private space." I began to get up, when I realized everyone else was sitting cross legged, with their arms beside them, heads back, eyes closed. "Oh, that private space." I looked around, catching my breath, rubbing my chin and my elbow and trying to push the hair back from my face. I don't know how everyone looked so tranquil and relaxed, I was a hot mess, and getting hotter.
The music ended, and everyone was on their feet, a little sweaty but smiling. One of the ladies said "We're finished now, you can stand up." Grimacing, I asked her if she had a pry bar to untangle my legs. Laughing, she walked away. I wasn't kidding, I was hurting and denying any possibility of getting up, at least on my own.
The instructor skipped over to me and asked how I was. I looked at her straight in the eye and asked her if she had been trained by Isis. She was definitely a terrorist.
She suggested I try a different class, and I agreed. Walking is easy, and isn't crowded. I walked out of the room of terror, looking for a water fountain. There wasn't one. I found the washroom, and caught my reflection in the mirror. I didn't know if I should laugh or cry. Seeing the girl who hit my toe with her nose, walking into the bathroom, I decided I would do neither. Her nose was red and had already begun to turn purple. I, again apologized profusely for kicking her. She told me she was OK, but she didn't sound convinced.
I was walking out towards the doors when I overheard some of the ladies who were in class with me, laughing about what happened. I wanted to say something smart and witty, but of course I swallowed my tongue. So, out to the car I limped, my chin and elbow scraped, my knee hurting and my bum, feeling like a kid was cranking it through a Play Dough fun factory!
I unlocked my door, and ever so carefully climbed in, of course, my daughter called me! Yoga, I have decided is an acronym for You're Only Getting Assaulted!
Let me say here and now, yoga is not for the faint of heart, nor, should it be thought of as easy, or wimpy!
I went to one of our local classes and was allowed to participate in 1 free beginner yoga class. I walked in, and introduced myself to a cute as a button, 20 something yoga instructor. She gave me a 200 watt smile and said excitedly, "Welcome! Everyone is in their place, come up here in front, there's an open spot here."
The open spot, was at the front of a class full of 27 ladies, and 2 men! I sat down on one of the mats and looked around. All of the students were sitting with their legs stretched out in front of them, their arms, beside them, relaxed. They were laughing and chatting with one another.
I watched as the instructor walked over to a cd player and pushed a button. Soft, relaxing music filled the room. How lovely, I thought. I am liking this already!
She stood in front of us and put her hands together, and bowed her head like she was praying. This should have been my first warning! I should have taken that que to actually pray! Things began to move fairly quickly after that.
We began with the Mountain pose. We stood, with our feet shoulder width apart, stretching our arms straight up in the air, for 10 breaths. Easy peasy. The instructor, called out Downward Dog, she effortlessly bent down from the waist, and began walking her hands forward, while keeping her bum up, eventually making an upside down "V". OK, I can do that, I bent down, my fingers could touch the floor, Yippee! I attempted to walk my hands forward like my instructor, but when I did, I lost my balance, my right leg flipped out from under me and my foot made contact with my partner who was minding her own business, finding her zen. I kicked her right in the nose! I realized something bad had happened, because my toe began to hurt, and I could hear a collected bunch of gasps all around me. I regrouped, and flopped myself over in time to see my neighbour, hand over her nose, eyes squished shut, and blood dripping between her fingers. Oh no! I crawled over to her and told her I was so sorry. Another girl helped her up and out of class as I sat there stunned. The instructor jumped down and ran over to me, telling me not to worry. She rolled up the bloody mat and suggested I move to the back of the class. I wanted to move out of the class!
The music started again, and the instructor acted as if nothing had happened. They did a series of moves, Tree, Pigeon, Cobra, and the Bridge poses. I myself, invented my own. Face Plant, Oh, I see I have a huge hole in my pants, thats nice, London Bridge is Falling Down, "I have to hold this for how long? Aah, going, going, gone, Elbow Rub, kind of like jumping out of a moving car, but not so much fun, and my favourite, Chin-ny, chin-ny bang bang, not to be confused with dancing in a mosc pit!
The rest of the class seemed to be handling the movements fine, I of course, was grunting and groaning, not to mention a few expletives that escaped my mouth. While contorting myself into a number of poses, all I could see were backsides, I said to myself this was a gynecological dream, just bring your own speculum.
My daughter calls me 30 times a day, without fail. She should be calling me anytime I thought, why wasn't she calling now? I needed an excuse to escape this insanity. Of course, she didn't call.
I was beat up at the end of 45 minutes, my hair was stuck to my face, and my nose hurt from falling flat on it, my chin was scraped, my elbow was bruised, and my bum, let's just say it will take a day or two to recover. We began our cool down phase, and our instructor told us to "Go to our private space." I began to get up, when I realized everyone else was sitting cross legged, with their arms beside them, heads back, eyes closed. "Oh, that private space." I looked around, catching my breath, rubbing my chin and my elbow and trying to push the hair back from my face. I don't know how everyone looked so tranquil and relaxed, I was a hot mess, and getting hotter.
The music ended, and everyone was on their feet, a little sweaty but smiling. One of the ladies said "We're finished now, you can stand up." Grimacing, I asked her if she had a pry bar to untangle my legs. Laughing, she walked away. I wasn't kidding, I was hurting and denying any possibility of getting up, at least on my own.
The instructor skipped over to me and asked how I was. I looked at her straight in the eye and asked her if she had been trained by Isis. She was definitely a terrorist.
She suggested I try a different class, and I agreed. Walking is easy, and isn't crowded. I walked out of the room of terror, looking for a water fountain. There wasn't one. I found the washroom, and caught my reflection in the mirror. I didn't know if I should laugh or cry. Seeing the girl who hit my toe with her nose, walking into the bathroom, I decided I would do neither. Her nose was red and had already begun to turn purple. I, again apologized profusely for kicking her. She told me she was OK, but she didn't sound convinced.
I was walking out towards the doors when I overheard some of the ladies who were in class with me, laughing about what happened. I wanted to say something smart and witty, but of course I swallowed my tongue. So, out to the car I limped, my chin and elbow scraped, my knee hurting and my bum, feeling like a kid was cranking it through a Play Dough fun factory!
I unlocked my door, and ever so carefully climbed in, of course, my daughter called me! Yoga, I have decided is an acronym for You're Only Getting Assaulted!
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