Day two of my 30 day yoga pass, and I think I like it. I’m a gym junkie and I’m not ashamed to admit that. I’ll try anything as long as there’s no mud or fire involved. Yesterday a friend texted to tell me about an offer at her yoga studio, 30 days for thirty bucks, I signed up. It’s nice out, my mood is up, and I really think I need to like yoga. I know I will never be one of those folks that post pics of yoga poses, but I’m starting to understand why they do it. Those poses are hard, and beautiful. They might look easy, but let me tell you my body does NOT contort like that and I doubt it ever will.
Today I took a hot hip-hop yoga class. All morning I was excited picturing my hip-hop moves. In my imagination, I was slaying with Beyonce like the GOAT. On the way to the studio it hit me, “Holy shit! This is just going to be a yoga class with a hip-hop soundtrack!” I knew dancing was out, there’s barely enough air to breathe in that room, but I went anyway because I love hip-hop music, and I’m starting to appreciate that post yoga glow.
I survived, and I’m learning as I go. First of all, I will no longer wait in that hot room for the class to start. I will be that girl that sets up her mat and waits in the lobby cherishing as much cool air as possible. Yes, I will follow the instructor into the room and begin when she does. She’s the teacher, I’m the student, She’s modeling the behavior, and I am totally following it!
Second of all, I will continue to plan my exit strategy. I’m sure everyone around me is relishing in the “Be Present” vibe of it all, but 30 minutes into both classes I have taken, there are 15 minutes of panic where I am sure I am about to die. There’s this pose where one leg is behind me and my arm is straight out in front of me. You know what else is straight out in front of me…. The exit! And although I hope I never actually do it, during those 15 air free minutes, while everyone else is finding their zen, I am fantasizing about running to the parking lot for gulps of oxygen.
Finally, no to shirts with words, but yes to headbands that make me look like a lead singer in an 80’s hair band. Remember that yoga glow I mentioned? It’s a thing except for the patch of chaffed skin on my chin from continual sweat swiping. Oh, and sweat dripping into ears isn’t that great of a feeling either, so I’m rocking that headband while I downward dog for the next class. Yeah I said it, the next class. For me, yoga is like running a half marathon. I hate it while I’m in it, but as soon as I survive, I’m thinking about doing it again.