Monday, September 24, 2007


Here's a little bonus post for no reason other than the "usual" reason people have blogs... To talk about themselves and their boring daily activities. Here goes.

On Monday evening, I tried a yoga class. In part because I woke up on Monday in some sort of personal freak out mode and needed to do something "relaxing". In part because my back is hurting. In part because it's free. And in part because I'm an idiot.

There were maybe 10 people in the class. There were only two other guys - One that I've known for 2.5 years, we only talk about Chicago sports and I still don't know his name. And another guy who was about 60. Then 7 or 8 flexible girls who obviously do this all the time. I knew virtually nothing about yoga except that there were mats and awkward stretching. So I followed suit and grabbed a mat, angled it the same way as every else and took off my shoes. The instructor came in, turned out the lights and put on one of those hypnotic, relaxing kind of CDs. Except that I distinctly remember some soothing version of Filter's "Take A Picture" in there somewhere.

For the first 5 minutes, I'm all about these warmup stretches. Then we start moving into poses I'm unfamiliar with, but I'm still with the program. The entire time my head is up watching the instructor figuring out what in the hell to do next. Probably 25 minutes in, I'm struggling. I can hear the sweat beads falling onto the mat in front of me in some sort of random, geiger counter pace. (Note: This wasn't the hot box, sauna-like yoga. This was just a normal room.) I figure the class is probably 30-45 minutes, so I continue to suck it up. I make it to the 30 minute mark. Then to the 45 minute mark. I start taking some more frequent breaks. Then just before the hour, I just quit. My hands were sliding in my pools of sweat. So I mop everything up, quietly put the mat back, put on my shoes and sit there to watch the rest. I sat there mostly because I wanted to know how far I had made it. About a half hour later, they were still at it. At which point I almost felt like a perv just sitting there watching people stretch. Then I left.

This brings me to my current dilemma. Do I go back? I've decided to make a pros and cons list of the experience. Here goes:


  • It's supposed to be good for strength and flexibility

  • Good looking, flexible girls will be there


  • I was sweating like R. Kelly at the Kids Choice Awards

  • There are slow breathing patterns involved. When you're dying like I was, there's no way not to breath more often.

  • I was the only one who couldn't finish. Even gramps made it through the entire thing.
  • The pools of sweat made the mat slippery, making any and all movements even harder
  • Since I couldn't hold most poses properly, my hands and feet would make noises as they slid across the mat
  • The entire experience led to a blog entry
  • And finally, probably the most important con, virtually nullifying half of the "pro" list - the good looking flexible chicks aren't impressed with a sweaty, sliding, can't hold a pose nor finish a yoga class dude

All in all, the cons heavily outweigh the pros. And still, I'm going to go back and do it again. Just wait - I'm going to be awesome.



1 comment:

skooky said...

If THAT was your yoga instructor....
you had better go back again or i'll lose all respect for you