Yoga Kicked My Butt

Revisions on Kidjacked are complete. I’ve handed it off to an editor so that she can fix all the boo boo’s I’ve made.

I decided to take up the practice yoga some time ago. Life balance and all that internal stuff should be good for me, right?

My teachers are a lady named Rose who’s 70 and a lady named Janice who’s 40.

Let’s begin with Rose.

At 5’ nothing and 105 lbs she is neither weak nor meek. She constantly shouts out “I need to see it for it to count,” referring to the pose we are suppose to be in.

For heaven’s sakes, I’m a long time runner and I lift weights too. So how in the world is Rose hurting me? For starters, I’m holding poses longer than I thought is humanly possible. Muscles, joints, ligaments and tendons are being stretched beyond belief. All this is happening, while my blood is rushing one way and then another way throughout my body trying to catch up with the rollercoaster ride she’s putting it through. After class, we sit and have green tea and homemade cookies. We talk. It’s nice. I’m always more calm than when I rolled out my mat an hour earlier.

In Janice’s class, she’s constantly reminding us to breathe as if it doesn’t come naturally or something.

Her poses are tougher and she helps correct out postures which is great. Again she’s back to the breathing thing and then on to more core work.

I thought this stuff was fun. Just a sensible, deep and ancient practice for women who didn’t really like to work out. A way to get together and talk while doing a little exercise without overexerting themselves too much is what I presumed.

Well, I was young and foolish. This is hard! This is good. This is tough.

My mates who went to one class refuse to go back complaining that it’s “too much work.” I remind them that our days of playing football and full-court basketball are over.

Back in my class full of women I’m thankful for the constant reminders to breathe because I’d forget otherwise. I’m so focused on getting the pose right that I often stop for five seconds or more until Janice reminds us. Saving me from almost fainting once again, I lose my balance in the middle of a pose and end up on my butt. Smiling, she assures us that yoga is not a competition and that each class you take is different from the last.

Kinda like life. Every day brings a new adventure filled with opportunity and challenges for us to meet head on. I’m okay with that as long as I remember to breathe.