Anyone who knows me, and perhaps even those of you who have read my blog for any length of time, will undoubtedly be amused (shocked?!) to hear that at age 57 I took my very first yoga class today. (When I told Damian he responded: What's the punchline?)
Although I suspected the more spiritual aspect of it wasn't for me -- and to be honest, I almost walked out when the instructor immediately told us to "feel the energy" around us -- I've long been curious about the physical benefits, because even as a youth I could give Celine Dion a run for her money in the flexibility department. Add to that 35 years at a desk job and here I am.
The venue was inviting and right near my apartment. (I have no interest in doing yoga alone/via livestream at home, so this was important.) Although I certainly didn't want to be singled out, I was a bit thrown that the teacher didn't seem to take much interest in the fact that I was literally an absolute beginner -- I went in not even knowing what a downward dog was -- which might have helped her understand why I was looking up (or at my neighbors) quite a bit. Her verbal explanations of how to contort my body weren't enough for me -- who can't even comb his hair in a mirror without getting confused -- to figure it out without seeing them demonstrated, which I couldn't do with my face down or looking in a direction away from people. (Just an observation; I’m sure it gets easier with experience.)
Will I go back? I think so. It was a Level I/Gentle class, so I am curious to see how I feel in the next 48 hours. The session didn't strike me as particularly challenging at the time, which I think is the idea, so if my body is sore this weekend I will know it's the right fit for me -- aka low effort with a payoff.
UPDATE; Saturday morning and I am already feeling it!
