Number 3 - Yoga Class

When I signed up for my first yoga class last month I was the first person to sign up.  That made me a little concerned for two reasons: (1) The lone requirement for the course—other than the $27 registration was that ‘students should be able to move from standing to the floor without assistance’ and (2) if that is the only requirement for the course, how difficult could it possibly be?  The class was taught by a young lady named Shelly and would meet from 6 to 7 p.m. on the four Tuesdays in January. 

Here goes nothing.

Session # 1

I arrived 10 minutes early, half expecting to be told upon arrival that the class had been cancelled since I was the only person who registered for it.  Once I entered the dimly-lit classroom and saw women in Spandex rolling their mats out on the floor—in perfectly straight lines and equidistant from one another, I knew this was going to happen: I was taking a yoga class!  I placed my mat in the back corner of the classroom next to a window, the blinds closed to prevent anything outside the room from ruining the ambiance the instructor was trying to achieve. Shelly came over and introduced herself and asked what experience I had in yoga.  I proudly said I had been doing some self-taught yoga on my living room floor for the past four months, thinking to myself what a stud I must be since I was way beyond moving from standing to the floor without assistance. 

Shelly continued about her business, setting out what I’m pretty certain were strands of white Christmas lights around the perimeter of the room.  She then placed an electronic candle next to everyone’s mat; again, I’m assuming to lend to the ambiance she was trying to create.   

I stood on my mat and did a few exaggerated Chubby Checker twists to loosen up, only to catch a glimpse of a woman in the back row wrapping one of her legs around the back of her head.  In my mind I couldn’t decide if she was being a complete showoff or a total bitch; instead I made a mental note not to look towards the back of the room for any reason whatsoever.  I looked around the room and noticed that for every single mat on the floor there was a female in close proximity doing a lot better job of stretching than me.  If it wasn’t for the fact I knew Shelly—whom I knew to be the instructor of the class I signed up for had already introduced herself to me I would have thought I was in the wrong room. 

You might remember a couple of sentences ago I specifically said females were in close proximity to their mats.  That’s because at that time I was the only male in the room.  Imagine my relief when ‘Mike’ (may or may not be his real name, but he looks like his name would be ‘Mike’) rolled out his mat next to mine, thus shifting the balance of power more in my favor: Males in yoga class – 2; females in yoga class – 16.  Whereas I had introduced myself earlier to Shelly as a runner, Mike introduced himself as a swimmer, right before introducing his wife, this making me the only non-chaperoned male in the room.

Shelly took her spot at the front of the room.  Notice how nonchalantly I wrote and equally nonchalantly you just now read that last sentence?  That would be because you had to be there to realize I had actually positioned my mat on the FRONT row!!  To say that I was intimidated would be an understatement.  I suddenly became so nervous, so self-conscious, so…vulnerable. 

‘What’s the worst that could happen?’ I thought to my panic-stricken self. ‘I could accidently fart…and there wasn’t a single pet in the room I could blame it on.  What if the women notice my socks in no way match the outfit I’m wearing?  Will they compare my yoga form to that of the instructor, seeing as both of us are in their fields of vision? Sure, I made it from standing to the floor without assistance, but will I be able to get from floor to standing the same way?’

The first thing Shelly asked us to do was lie on our back with one hand on our stomach and one hand on our heart.  Then she asked us to close her eyes.  It’s rather obvious at this point Shelly doesn’t know who she’s dealing with, because the next thing I know two minutes had passed (an observation I made by looking at the clock on the wall) and she asked us to get in the Downward Dog position. 

There are three things you may have picked up in that last statement: (1) I fell asleep seconds after being asked to lie on my back; (2) for the first time in many years I was ‘clock watching’ and (3) Shelly assumed everyone knew the Downward Dog position (Note: All of us did, even the swimmer next to me who had never done any yoga in his life until tonight).

For the next 58 minutes Shelly gave us non-stop instructions, doing all of the yoga herself as she spoke.  It was all I could do to breathe trying to do all of the various poses and maneuvers she was putting us through, let alone talk.  The toughest one for me was lying on my stomach, arching my body backward in the shape of a slice of watermelon, bending my legs at the knees and grabbing both of my ankles with my hands.  I found this one the most difficult because of the fact I wasn’t able to grab both ankles at the same time.  Right ankle?  No problem.  Left ankle?  Big problem. 

The next toughest for me was a tie between any and every pose requiring me to balance on one leg.  Let me be the first to tell you: Balance is not one of my strong suits these days.  As I mentioned earlier the room was dimly-lit and I was positioned next to a window, and where there’s a window there’s a wall.  In other words I had the perfect storm for creating the illusion of balance.  (Note to self: Be certain to secure the same spot next week.  On the same note: Do not eat beans for lunch on Tuesday, give strong consideration to bringing my neighbor’s dog to class and drop Shelly a hint that I’m about as flexible as a nail file—just so she knows.)

One down and three more to go.  I’m willing to be patient and see how this thing plays out.  After all, Rome wasn’t built in a day.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I want to look for my left ankle.  I know it’s back there somewhere.