Blog in Brief: Hold That Pose!

Photo by Dreaming in the deep south.

In my ongoing and oft, self-critical quest for personal betterment, I am making a concerted effort to expand my personal exercise regimen.  Specifically, I am looking for consistency.  Of late, I have increased my involvement in yoga.  I love its' tortuous combination of flexibility (something my hamstrings refuse to develop), balance and awkward (yet hopefully useful) strengthening poses.  I learned recently, that to lower my "actual age" (Age Calculator), I ought to be participating in more flexibility increasing activities.  This was once called "stretching" but now, it is called "yoga".

Rarely able to attend formal, and zen-fully competitive yoga classes (how low can you go??), I have strategically purchased a few yoga DVDs to watch at home.  And so, far too early this morning, I arose (reluctantly, and after three snooze buttons), to join Rodney Yee, yoga master extraordinaire, in my basement "yoga studio", for my daily reminder of how sadly inflexible I am.  Pajamas proved appropriate attire, and in the dark of the bedroom (lest I wake my loudly snoring hubby), I applied a haphazard pony tail and creaked my sleep stiffened body down the stairs. As I unfurled my yoga mat, I wondered how my body would react to the forthcoming downward dog assault I was about to subject it to.

My first mistake was to select the "Power Yoga" workout.  Mr.Yee, a well muscled oriental fellow, who demonstrates far more flexibility and creepy strength, than any man ought to, will lead me effortlessly through a painful staccato of poses for the next 50 minutes.  I position myself in mountain pose, ready to begin.  I try inhaling and exhaling, matching the singular focus of my instructor, but find I cannot help my wandering thoughts and I begin to consider, as Mr. Yee swan dives into an enviable forward fold, the sorts of benefits his exceptional flexibility might afford in the sack.  

I shake my mind back to oneness-with-the-universe, and jump back (well, more like awkwardly drag my feet) into the first of three hundred down-ward dogs I am about to enjoy.  As I descend into push up position, and press to upward dog, I ponder the health of my lower back whilst simultaneously becoming distracted by  the bulbous-ness of Mr. Yee's buttocks.  Alas, why is his butt so big?  The rest of him is quite svelte and ripped.  I shake my head and quell my questions of the likelihood of him wearing a cup in his tight blue shorts, and will myself into triangle pose.

I wonder briefly, if my husband would survive this DVD were I able to convince him to join me.  This workout isn't going down so well this morning, perhaps next time, I should pick a less vigorous routine.  As we move from one pose to another, I cannot help but to begin longing for the final relaxation pose, my personal favorite.  This pose involves lying flat on your back, and doing absolutely nothing but thanking God the class is over.  I begin falling behind, and once allowed to lie prone on my mat, I stop trying to keep up.  Ahh, lying still is so relaxing.

Rodney won't let up, and continues his insistent monotone that I move into plank position.  I decide to skip this "flow" and keep my cheek planted happily upon my mat.  Reluctantly, I re-engage my yoga mojo, and move with him to lying on my back.  During this next series, he has me trying to hold my big toe as I straighten my leg to the ceiling.  Rodney must have long arms, as all I can muster is to grab the back of my resolutely bent knee.  I try and breath through the ripping of my hamstrings, as Rodney, the obnoxious bastard, pulls his foot to his ear.  

This guy is starting to piss me off.  I think it would be nice for a change to have an equally stiff person teach me yoga so I won't feel so inept.  The class would be inflected with shouts of "Holy shit this hurts!"  or "Gaawwd! My groin is coming apart!" Rodney, I now realize is a show-off, as he presses himself into something called an upward bow.  The last time I did this back-bending concoction, I was in kindergarten.  I sit up on my mat, and stare incredulously at his flawless body bow.  His "maybe-a-cup" is pressing firmly to the sky and his ample buttocks continue to alarm me.  

"Press to your toes!" he calmly suggests.  I reach for the remote deciding to press pause instead, freezing him in the midst of this awful pose.  Rodney, is now stuck, at my whim, and I call out nastily to the television screen, "Hey Rodney! Hold that pose you jackass!"  

Rodney is silenced, and I can now lie on my back, enjoying my most favorite pose in peace.