Sunday, November 23, 2008

I decided to have a productive Saturday and went to a yoga class. I had been reliably informed that this class was for beginners, and to avoid the more advanced class until I felt more confident.

LIES! Lies, I tell you!

I did a class earlier last week with a different instructor, and that was incredibly tough, but this was like I had walked into flexi-hell. Turns out I am completely stiff with the joints of an eighty-year old. My wrists don't bend the way everyone elses do, my ankles don't bend the way everyone elses do, and I can't balance for shit.

And the funny thing is, I will admit that I always thought that yoga was a bit on the easy side. I mean, I knew it was great for the flexibility, and the inner peace, etc., but as far as improving your fitness goes I would always pick a class that involved jumping around like a loon over the people chanting "om" and crossing their legs a lot.

WRONG! I was so very, very wrong!

After about an hour of having the instructor single me out, correct my position and ask me if I was ok as I gasped, cracked and groaned, I started thinking that my 45 minute class seemed to be running for a really long time. I don't know if it was the last class of the day, or if she just had a lot of free time on her hands, but LUCKY ME, the instructor decided to give everyone a free 90 minute lesson. HOORAY!

Summary: I am completely crippled. Muscles are spasming randomly, and the back muscles I needed to stretch so badly are aching like a bitch. Which I guess is a good thing? It's either a good thing, or I'm dying.

7 comments:

guinness222 said...

Ahhh! To be but a fly on the wall!. But then again I am sure you would "terminate my existence"if you knew, (That would also be good therapy!) Love your natural comedy, you paint a great picture!
P.S. At 64 those sounds become "usual and customary" :)

Adam said...

Unfortunately the road to self improvement is painful and humiliating, but the silver lining on this particular achy cloud is that if you do die of back spasms the undertaker can fold you into a breadbox. Before you started pilates and yoga that would never have been possible, in these uncertain economic climes your family won't have to fork out for an expensive coffin. That RAT, always thinking of others...

Lucy said...

Pilates and Yoga are bloody hippy death traps.

I've never felt such pain after doing my first class of pilates that it became my last.

Find my centre, my arse.

(Should try a long bath for the muscle death spasms.)

RAT said...

Mr. Guinness, thanks! At the rate I'm going, those sounds are going to be customary at 25. This is my punishment for sitting on the couch for too many years.

Adam, you are hi-larious, good sir! And if a breadbox is too pricy, then maybe they can squash me down a bit and slip me into a large envelope! Oh, the possibilities!

Lucy, I had a bit of a breakthrough at the workshop I went to when the instructor told me that the muscle that they are always talking about (your "b-line" or your TA or whatever) is actually what you use to stop yourself peeing, mid-stream. Oh! NOW I understand! So while I am completely terrible and in constant agony, I sort of have a niggling feeling that I might hopefully make it to the other side. One day. A long, long time in the future. Because if there's one thing I'm good at, it's stopping mid-stream. (That's the sort of statement to make a mother proud.)

Adam said...

Are you not yet 25? Why, you're just a youngster, I assumed you were in your mid 40s or similar.

Mark said...

Oh BURN!

RAT said...

Assuming I am 45 can only mean that I must write with the wisdom and maturity of a much older woman. This is totally how I'm going to take this comment. WIN!