touching my Inner Pretzel

Last Saturday, I showed up for my third yoga class... ever. In the distant wilds of Upper Manhattan, there is a yoga center nestled amongst the caves, old trees and baseball fields choked with Dominicans. I don't know how or why such a center came to be in the Land of Inwood, but I'm not gonna ask- it might disappear. Until a month ago, I'd never considered taking yoga. Sure, the pursuit is dominated by thin, flexible women and this is a Very Good incentive for a heterosexual male, but I'm Taken and besides, I'm serious about my fitness. The idea of stretching and chanting mantras to a religion I didn't practice has always felt like just the sort of New Age, hippie fad that I loved to hate. I am a rock n' roll/heavy weights kinda guy that prefers to See his accursed enemy - 300 pounds on an olympic, bench-press bar, for instance. You Mount the weight bench, growl at it menacingly, burst forth a few puffs of breath to pump myself up then 'Wham!'.

On the other hand, I can't afford $50-70 a month for the honor of standing on a treadmill or lifting weights. The center offers 6 classes (1 per week) for $65 bucks and I'd be setting myself up for an activity I can perform back in the cave. Plus, if I don't start doing some sort of regular exercise, my mental state is going to be veddy, veddy bad, veddy, veddy soon. I don't handle the winter months very well (or the other months, actually).

So... 3 weeks and, I think I like it. Really. No, really. Never have I sweated so much and moved so little. Who knew that shifting your hips an inch could immediately induce your thigh to say, "I don't think so."? The day after my first session, I'd soaked through my T-shirt, flannel pajamas (I don't have workout clothes) and was only capable of about a third of my normal movement. Last week was better and this week, I'm starting to feel better! Of course, I still tip over with any yoga move that requires balance. I also have this amazing ability to vibrate. Leave me in that 'Warrior 2' position for too long, and you'll soon have a Bouncing Deckard toy on your hands. Breathing can be a bit of a chore, also. That yoga instructor breathes a helluva lot slower than my body's willing to do. Apparently, I also have some tension in my shoulders- steel girder grade.

And hell, I'm starting to kinda dig the chanting too!