Rediscovering Yoga

Hi. My name is Karen and until last week, it had been ten years since my last yoga class. I took two semesters of classes in college and since then, I've decided the best part of yoga was the nap at the end.

I loved the first class. The room was dark. The instructor had a soft, calming voice. I enjoyed the fact that emphasis was on breathing with the moves and we were given verbal instruction in order to help us improve our form in each pose. Each day we were reminded to do our best and if we couldn't fully make it into the textbook version of each pose, it was okay. Improvement, not perfection.

The second semester was in the same gymnasium, but its stark fluorescent lighting hurt my eyes and provided too much distraction from the periphery. The instructor, in addition to verbally suggesting mental cues, came and manually adjusted our hips and arms while in triangle pose because they weren't just so. I hated it. Nothing quite feels as violating as trying to focus on being present in the moment with my eyes closed and mind focused on my breath, to be yanked from it all by the unexpected touch of a near-stranger.  After that semester, I kinda fell off the wagon.

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After my spring marathon training, I had an epiphany. My allergies are always worst on the two weeks before the taper. Of course, more exposure to my triggers makes my symptoms worse, but it was more than that. I spent much of those weeks in a semi-agitated state. I was unable to fully relax and my body felt physically stressed. Maxed out on my pharmaceutical options, I turned to meditation. I tried to sit quietly for ten minutes that first day. I lasted five. I tried again daily for the next few weeks. Eventually, that stressed out twitching went away. I had just one bad workout in my Boston Marathon training cycle. In my book, that's perfection. Maybe there was something to this relaxation thing.

In June, inspired by a more flexible training regimen for the SOB 50K, I decided to try yoga again. I fumbled uncomfortably as way too many inflexible hot spots appeared. I really do have a runner's body, don't I? I thought between the ouch and groans as I thumbed through my book of yoga poses, trying to recall my former routine.

Zoey is a really good partner.

I eased back into what I could remember and began looking for a local yoga class. So I wouldn't feel completely left out or add workload to my schedule unevenly, I hoped Matt would join me. After two weeks of excuses, I realized he didn't really want to come. On my solo adventure inland last week, I decided to try a class again myself. Sifting through reviews on Yelp, I settled on a studio with the best class selection.

I arrived early and rolled out my mat next to an older woman, who smiled and introduced herself to me. She asked how long I had been doing yoga. I told her how it was my first class in a long time and I was looking for a relaxing experience. She smiled and mentioned she was a beginner too and was trying to release some back problems. The class was exactly what I needed. I left with a blissed out smile on my face.

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Back at home, I continued my search. There is exactly one yoga studio in my town and it's the sweaty, intense, and militaristic style of Bikram yoga. Since my running provides plenty of intensity in my life, I'm pretty sure an hour of sweating my contacts out isn't what I need.

Noticing the public gym offered morning vinyasa classes, I was hopeful. And for a mere $6.50 a session, it was by far the cheapest option. I sleepily made my way downtown on the foggy morning. Mist hung on the masts of boats floating at the marina. It was beautiful. Suddenly out of nowhere came a man, sprinting haphazardly through the parking lot, screaming at patrons and dumping out trash cans. When he appeared to have run off, I got out of the car and made my way to the building. Halfway there, I heard footstep behind me. Fearing it was the man on meth (?), I ran to the door.

When I was safely inside, I noticed it was another patron who followed me. Together we agreed the front desk attendant should call the police to check on the man outside. Visibly shaking, I gave the attendant a description of him, paid my fee, and made my way to the class.

My body, still stiff from my night's sleep, didn't respond at all. Every move hurt and I couldn't relax one bit. The room smelled of intense body odor and I could hear someone slamming plates down in the weight room next door. Then as I was finally getting somewhere calming, I felt a hand try to rotate my left arm. I yanked it away protectively. Don't touch, lady. She would try to adjust my pose several times before the end of class, usually when I was least expecting it. When we finished up, I was incredibly relieved it was over.

One good thing came from the class: it was a refresher course on when to breathe during a sequence. Other than that, I think my day was a wash. There are a couple other classes later in the morning, taught by other instructors and when more people are around downtown, so I will try once more before moving on to the neighboring town options.

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Today, still sweaty from my marathon pace run, I rolled out my mat. Flexibility I haven't had since I was twenty returned. Everything felt strong and focused. Stretches felt good, my poses grounded and energetic. It was amazing. If I could bottle up that feeling and drink some every afternoon, I'd be the queen of productivity. A mix of energetic and calm, I spent the next few hours in a blissful peace. Maybe I'm just not a morning yoga person?

I'm planning on taking one class a week and then continuing mostly at home. It has been an interesting journey so far and I can already tell that it will be beneficial to both reversing the inflexible runner muscles and to my allergies.

I'm still learning how to do this one without the wall, but look, a headstand!!! I never in a million years thought I'd be able to do one of these.

Do you take yoga classes? What do you look for in your group experience?

I'm looking for a class like that first semester I had in college: focusing on improving rather than making beautiful, empty poses. I have to modify so many of them for my arm that I don't think perfection will ever be attained. But then again, I don't think that part really matters.