I've made good on my exercise pledge. Sort of. For the past few years I've been wanting to try yoga but haven't been able to due to aforementioned knee issues. Now that my knees are more or less normal and healthy, I decided to take a stab at it. I wasn't really sure what to expect. I've heard that it has incredible health benefits, but for all I knew that could have been a huge exaggeration. After all, the West has a fantastic habit of adopting Eastern practices, be it religious, philosophy, or exercise, and corrupting them with new age spirituality bullshit. You know, crystals and the Earth Mother, or whatever. But what the hell, I figured. I found a yoga supply shop in my town, bought a mat and carrying bag, and did a little investigating to try and find a decent yoga studio. I was shocked to discover that there are no less than half a dozen studios in my town! After narrowing down the candidates to two, and made a few visits and talked to a few people and finally settled on one. Not knowing what to expect, I attended a Wednesday evening beginner class.As I walked into the studio the first thing I noticed was the sheer variety of people attending. Some were my age, some a little younger, and some older - middle aged and up. There definitely wasn't a specific age group being targeted here. I found the instructor before class and introduced myself, explained that I had knee surgery five months ago, signed a waver, and changed. I wasn't sure what to make of the instructor - she looked 30 something, incredibly fit, but had this granola air about her. She didn't smell bad, which was good, and didn't sport any dreadlocks, but she definitely seemed to be in the "Earth Mother" camp. She smiled a lot, and had this light, floaty, gentle quality to her voice, the kind of quality that I've heard from girls who were rolling on ecstasy (a decade ago in my late teens - I'm a model citizen now *cough*). But what the hell - I figured if this does turn into a "love the goddess" session I can always ignore the faux-spiritual crap and just focus on the exercise.
She told me to roll out my mat at the back of the classroom since I was new, and at first I wasn't sure why. I figured it'd be more beneficial if the new people were at the front of the class so they could get a better view of the instructor and the poses that we were supposed to do, but I didn't argue. I set up at the back with an elderly woman to my left and a woman my age on my right. I made small talk, and discovered that even these people who were relatively new to yoga had taken at least one class before. I was the only neophyte in the class. The instructor took her position at the front of the room, and we began.
This isn't meant to be sexist in any way, but at a glance, yoga looks relatively easy. You know, a bunch of women stretching. How hard could this be, right? Let me tell you, I thought I was going to die. Even the basic poses were incredibly difficult. After ten minutes my body was gleaming with sweat - droplets were falling from my face and spattering on my mat. My muscles were quivering and my breathing was ragged and uneven. This particular style of yoga involves holding a pose for 30 seconds or so, and then moving to a slightly different pose, holding it, and moving again. After every ten minutes of poses we got to move into a resting pose called "child's pose" which involves kneeling on the ground with your upper body bent completely forward so your forehead touches the floor and your arms are outstretched above your head. It wasn't very restful.
Occasionally I looked to my left. The elderly woman was doing fine. She wasn't even breaking a sweat. To my right, the woman my age showed barely any signs of strain. And then there was me. On two occasions I thought I might actually vomit from the exertion. Now, I had nothing to prove going in there. I knew I was out of shape, and this was my very first class, and no one reasonable would expect much from me. But there's this little slice of vanity that made me determined not to be the only one in this 25 person class that had to take a breather and sit a few poses out. And that's when I understood why they place the new people at the back of the class - so they're well out of sight and don't have to deal with the embarrassment of the rest of the class seeing how laughably out of shape they are. And by they, I mean me.
The class lasted an hour and fifteen minutes, and after ten minutes or so I lost all sense of time. It became utterly meaningless to me as every second was consumed by concentration and fatigue - trying desperately to maintain the poses, to not collapse, to not sit out. I was honestly scared at one point, not knowing if I could continue, but even more scared about collapsing into a heap in front of everyone. Stupid, I know. The instructor approached me to correct my posture from time to time and ask if my knee was holding up. It was during these moments that all thoughts of her being a new-age douche went out of my head. She was gentle, warm, and respectful, and that smile, natural or not, was more than welcome. She saw what a physical train wreck I was, and didn't judge me at all. But I didn't fall in love with her until she ended the class. Just at the moment where my vision began to darken, cloud, and I began to hear the voices of my ancestors calling to me, she dimmed the lights and instructed us to lie on our backs for ten minutes of meditation and rest. I complied. After the class I told her how difficult it was, and how amazed I was that I made it. She was amused and encouraged me to return.
I can honestly say I've never had such a grueling workout. Not with aerobic exercise, not with free weights. For the next three days my entire body felt like it had been beaten with lead pipes, and even today I still feel a little sore in my upper chest and abdomen. It felt like every single muscle, no matter how small, had been pushed to the brink. And you now what? It felt good. I'm going to be attending class again this coming Wednesday, and it can't possibly be any harder than the first class, right? I hope not. Let me be absolutely clear: If you're out of shape and want to get fit, yoga will fuck you up in a good way. I can't recommend it any higher if you really want to push yourself and get in shape. I'm not sure how long I'll stick with it, but I'm determined to go to the next class, and then the next, and see where I am after that.
While I wasn't able to exercise 20 minutes a day for a week, that's mostly due to the fact that I needed days of serious recovery after my first class. As I do it more, my recovery time will decrease. Right now I intend to take yoga on Wednesdays, and do some aerobics on Mondays and Fridays to work on reducing my gut. Even with exercising only three days a week so far, I still consider my experiment a tentative success.
Namaste.
