Thursday, January 21, 2010

Downward Facing Danny

I try to do Yoga. Is Yoga with a capital "y"? I'm not sure, so throughout this post I will sometimes capitalize the word "yoga" and sometimes I'll leave the word "Yoga" in lower case.

Anywho, I try to do yoga. I'm certainly not a Yogi. I'm sure you have to travel to someplace with no electricity, eat very raw veggies, not speak for a long time, and fold yourself completely in half in order to become a yogi. I am no good at any of those things.

My yoga experience began with my buddy Pat coming over to my apartment to get me started. Pat is a serious student and teacher of the Yoga. He is however, Pat. How can I describe Pat? He's kind of like the Cat in the Hat of yoga. He's loud, goofy, cracks you up while you're trying to hold a pose and likes to make animal sounds. This is my ideal way of learning any ancient physical and mental discipline.

While I still meet with Pat regularly, I've started attending a yoga class at my local Y. The teacher is nice enough. She kind of reminds me of Helen Hunt. The class is pretty big, predominantly female. Predominantly soccer moms. I'm the new guy so it's a little awkward but I hope that soon enough we will all be comparing nursing habits, sharing tofu recipes and trading sexual fantasies about Jack Johnson.

These women kick my ass! I know I'm not supposed to be focused on what others around me are doing but as we go through the poses they are sleek and graceful in their $200 Lulu Lemon stretch pants and I am a shaky, wheezing mess who is soaking through his 3 year old Hanes tee.

My least favorite is a pose called "lizard". It's like a combination of both a squat and a stretch that tears up your groin and pulls your hips out to kingdom come. As the teacher cooly instructs to "relax into the pose", I start to feel a deep seething hatred for her and all of the fleur-de-lis mats around me.

But as I continue to stretch and hold the pose (and other psychotic, mind boggling poses I think are actually tricks Indians made up to play on Westerners) I remember to breathe. I wouldn't go so far as to say I can relax into it, but lately when I leave the pose, I feel a certain sense of triumph. I also feel a certain release.

At the end of the last class, I had a huge buzz. I zipped through the rest of my day feeling so refreshed and almost giddy.

I have decided not to buy a new pastel seaweed sports bra... but I'm actually kind of excited for class tomorrow!

Love me,

You can buy tickets for MY AiDS at

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