Wherein Yoga Kicks My Butt

I am taking a yoga class. Since I'm currently unemployed, I figured I needed some kind of exercise routine to combat the hours I plan to spend chilling on the couch with my TiVo and vats of chocolate fudge brownie ice cream. I took a yoga class last month ('Yoga For Stress Relief' Sundays at 7:30- calm, easy, naptime for grown ups) and thought, "Why not sign up for the IMMERSION class, the one that will require me to arise at the oh-so-ungodly hour of 5:45 am three days a week? I will gain greater awareness and confidence in my body while cultivating peace of mind!"

The fact is that this was quite possibly the worst decision ever. I went to my first class yesterday morning and I have never been so sore. You see people doing yoga on TV and you're sitting there with your giant bag of Lays and the remote and possibly an empty pint of chocolate ice cream congealing on your coffee table and you're thinking, "Well, jeez, I can do that." But I will tell you right now: No, you cannot. Those yoga positions? Sure, they look easy. But then they want you to hold the positions and then it hits you: yes, your limbs are turning black and falling off. As soon as I got out of bed this morning my hamstrings were shrieking in pain. "WHY DID YOU DO THIS TO US?" I spent an hour stretching out, but it was only a temporary fix. "THAT WASN'T ENOUGH" cried the hamstrings. "WE NEED ANOTHER HIT."

And yet, I am going back tomorrow. I paid $135 for this class, dammit, and I will be there and I will show all those tall skinny girls with their yoga mats and their Lucy activewear and their toned triceps that I can hold the frickin bridge pose just as long as they can. And then I will go home and suck on a Fudgesicle.

Comments

[April aka Arra]

Interesting....to say the least..