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Yoga for Beginners MAG
Sitting hunched over my laptop I began my seventh search for local yoga classes open to young beginners. To be totally honest, I could have found a class during my first search. The idea of shopping for colorful yoga mats and coordinating leggings, however, was far more appealing than actually attending a class.
In short, I'm lazy.
So when the receptionist at my gym (yes, I'm back in the gym. In fact, every time I manage to work out I reward myself with a slice of sponge cake … I may be missing the point) announced with delight that the evening yoga course was beginning again, I was wedged between excitement and dread.
After booking myself in for a slot, I leisurely wandered toward the studio, pausing often to admire unremarkable scenery along the way. Was I putting off my impending doom? Probably. My muscles ached with anticipation, and during the past week I had been so busy I hadn't had the time to buy equipment.
However, suddenly realizing that if I didn't arrive soon I would be forced to interrupt the class half way through, I hurried through the glass doors and into the gym.
Here's a tip for those interested in taking up yoga: Don't arrive late. Tumbling into the room and interrupting the initial few minutes of meditation was not my finest hour. I assume the atmosphere was perfectly serene before I burst through the door, as the entire studio attempted to regain their concentration and returned to their stretches. I've never been in a room quite so silent. I still had to shimmy across the wooden floor, remove my shoes, and retrieve a mat before picking a space – and of course all of this without the tiniest sound.
I felt as if my breathing alone was causing enormous disturbance, as every pair of eyes attempted to remain shut. Deciding to get ready in one swift movement so as not to cause any more trouble, I set down my bag and sprang into action:
Kick off shoes, grab mat, throw mat into air in attempt to unroll it, drop on floor, jump on mat, sit down, and breathe calmly!
I received a number of one-eyed stares from the others, but at this point I was just glad to have made it across the room in one piece.
It was only when we were asked to stand that I noticed I'd forgotten to remove my left sock – as if I needed another reason to feel self-conscious as I stood warily in the front row.
So, red-faced from my entrance ordeal and sporting a single sock, I proceeded through the class with determination, as the only thing that could save me from further embarrassment would be suddenly realizing my hidden talent for yoga. Of course, this did not happen. I am apparently a tragedy when it comes to the downward-facing dog pose, and seemed to require a lot of surprisingly tactile assistance from the instructor in correcting my stance.
I also came to realize that wearing a hoodie was another bad choice; every time I bent over into a different pose, my hood fell over my head and remained there when I stood back up. A number of times I tried to push it down, promptly jeopardizing my balance and sending me toppling, so I decided that leaving it up was the best option. I had now become the peculiar girl wobbling in the front row, whose reddened face poked out from inside her hood, and whose feet were complete with one sock.
Yes, I may have accidentally found my way into the advanced class, which I only realized during my attempt to hoist my leg up to my shoulder while balancing on my toes, but nevertheless I eventually began to find yoga enjoyable.
With I be returning next week? Yes, of course – promptly on time, in the right clothes, wearing neither of my socks, and appearing remarkably more flexible.
Well … maybe I'll just shoot for being on time.