As promised, my report on hot yoga.
Loved the heat, loved the teacher. But yoga is still a bridge too far for me. Full transparency, much of that bridge is my own drama. Blah blah, have the wrong clothes, have the wrong look, have the inability to understand the zen. And what is not bs drama, is aptitude – good god gertie I have the flexibility of wood, and zero ability to understand directions on the fly.
In the other classes I can camouflage most of my spaz; in that quiet little sweaty yoga room, not so much. Even my mat was squeechy and squeaky.
Wait wait, back up, start from the beginning. I walk into “the studio” clanking weights, music, gym sounds fade away – quieter chatter rules, and by my tally everyone is 5′ 9″, 119lbs, and lithe. Not even a little bit true, but I’ve had years of practice with this flawed system of observation. So me and my garage oil mat I mean yoga mat look to escape to the back of the class – a trick known by all wishing to escape notice. Well damn it, the front becomes the back sometimes in yoga land. Strike One.
Strike Two – I could not hear, no no not the instructor’s fault, actual ear mechanics – almost fully deaf now in one ear and not great in the other – so even if I could put one hand behind, flip into a side plank and come out a crocodile on the other side, I could not hear her direction. Holy fuck I think she was saying dragonfly not crocodile…
Strike Three – Disruptive me. We all pay the gym fees, we all have a right to the classes, but do I want to be the jackwagon spaz disrupting the class? As mentioned, very quickly there was a lot of squeaky mat happening, and everyone facing one way, and me facing the other way chasing that damn elusive crocodile pose. But how do you leave a yoga class and not be disruptive?
Lovely teacher to the rescue – whatever she sensed, she nipped it in the bud. She came over, and I whispered (or at least I hope I did), this is a train wreck I’m going to grab my map and go.
And she said, No. No, this is your time, do something, find something in the pose or the directions that you can do, and do it. And so I did. And I tip my hat to that wonderful professional. We all start somewhere and even if yoga does not become my thing, it was an hour that I appreciated and just “did something” and I would have found an out if she had not come to my rescue.
Side note funny, walked out with a lady who said, “that’s a one and done for me” – and when I asked why, said I loved it in spite of my “limitations” – she said “too hot”. I laughed, we’re all batshit crazy am I right?
To quote the old ’60’s phrase, “Keep On Keeping On” and I hope to see you along the way.