sweathog

"I've got a yoga class on Monday. You wanna come?"

I've talked about taking yoga for years. I was dating a yoga instructor for a while, for crying out loud. I've made plans to do weekly yoga with people. But it's never happened. Soooo, "sure!"

I'm a bit nervous. I know this is an intermediate class, and I'm sure to let her know that this is my first yoga session EVER.

One of my bosses is at the studio. I'm only half surprised. It's that he's at THIS yoga studio that is surprising, not that he's at A yoga studio. He asks, "you're doing the next class? Awesome!"

"Yeah, it's my first class, ever."

He pauses, grins at me, laughs. "Really? It's BRUTAL!"

The room is jam packed. My companion has never seen it so full. We haven't even started, and the room is humid and smells of sweat.

I am able to participate in maybe half of the poses and exercises. Some are physically beyond me, some I cannot due because of light headedness or head-rush headaches from all the up in the sky, down beneath your knees cranium action. My clothing is utterly and completely drenched. I don't mean that I have a good sweat going, I mean *drenched*. Some of the moves, even exhausted, I can pull off. They are very similar to things I've done in Suzuki class, and both the instructor and my companion are surprised and pleased when they see me rally. One or two moves I do fairly easily that even my companion has a hard time with. For the most part however, I am left to gasp and admire the power, grace, strength, and stamina of those around me.

It is *very* humbling.

If I am going to continue going with her on Monday nights, I will need to get a mat, and I will need a DVD I can do beginner yoga to during the week. My upper body strength is unimpressive, and my stamina is tragic.

But I got through the class. Tomorrow I will be a creeping cramp, but tonight... I got through the class.