These days, Tuesdays are yoga day for me, and today, a lady walked out of the class after 20 minutes. It was her first time doing yoga. And from my tree posture, I knew where she was coming from. Hoo, boy, I've been there. It sucks big time the first time you do it, I thought. The first time I did yoga, I wanted to quit during the first downward dog, which was actually the first pose of the entire practice that didn't just involve standing there. My little chicken arms were shaking more than a rickety second-class Vietnamese train carriage and there was no way I could have made it to 10 breaths in that position. And then that harlot of a yoga teacher went on to explain that this was actually a resting posture. Resting my ass. I was in pain, and the fact that people three times my age were holding the pose like they were born in it wasn't helping. In fact, if that had been a drop-in class, I probably wouldn't have gone back. I'd paid for each of the 12 sessions up front, and as it happens, the only thing I hate more than excruciating pain is wasting money. Fact.
So I went back each week for three long months, each time making a point to tell myself and anyone who'd listen that it's not for me. Of course, I didn't use the fact that I was weak as shit as my reasoning. Instead I made up stories about how it was too slow and what with that whole sleeping for five minutes at the end of the class? Did I really pay all that money to a snooze? La-ame!
But then, at the 11th hour -- also known as the second half of what I was sure would be the last class of my life -- yoga made a surprising comeback. While I was going through the motions, I suddenly came to the realization that I could touch my toes while standing without bending my legs at a near 90-degree angle. In fact, I didn't need to bend them at all. This might not seem like a big accomplishment, but it was something I hadn't done since I 10. I even complained to my dad about it when I was a teenager -- he told me if I wanted to touch my toes, I had to practice every day and I was all Pffffft, as if I'm going to do something stupid like bend over on a regular basis for flexibility. Boring. And yet here I was, doing it. And the downwards dogs weren't excruciating anymore, just mind-numbingly uncomfortable.
And I thought: If I can do that after 12 classes, what will I be able to do after 24? And 36? And so on?
So it was out of curiosity that I plunked down another $80 for the next session of yoga, and then the one after that, and then a membership to a yoga studio where I went four times a week. And I'll admit, after five years and god only knows how many downward dogs, I still can't do a headstand or the full wheel or half moon with any semblance of grace. But I had made little victories over the years -- I finally figured out that my inability to do tree posture wasn't because my pants were too slippery; now I'm a pro at it. And I can do the proper upward dog, without my knees on the floor. And perhaps the best achievement was being able to conquer those downward dogs. I can do all of them now, with one foot even. And I finally get what that ho-bag nice yoga instructor was saying about it being a resting posture -- It does sometimes feel good after you've been bending yourself like a pretzel.
Hell, the fact that I've done something healthy on a regular basis for five years is in itself an achievement. It's something I can and do feel good about all the time, especially when I touch my toes with my legs straight.
If I had that woman's email address, I'd definitely tell her all of this. Yes, it's hard, and yes, maybe it really isn't for you. But you never know -- maybe if you give it a chance, it will be worth it.
Recent Comments