storytimewithjoe | Is this what 40 feels like?

Waking up this morning after a fairly restless night, every muscle was speaking in tongues. After welcoming the steamy spray of a hot shower, I looked back at last night’s yoga class as a jolt of owie-pain ran down my spine. I just honestly don’t know what in the world happened last night. The stars must have aligned JUUUUUUST right, or in my case just wrong. The class combined nothing, NOTHING but the moves that I am really, really, really not good at – down n’ out sucky at, in fact. Was there a single moment of, “Oh yeah! I can handle this!” Heck no. Was there a triumphant scene of, “Look at what I can do!” Oh no. Just a lot of grunting, panting, and temporary yoga-induced turrets.

I really should have known when he said, “OK, we’re going to begin. Start off in Down Dog.” “What?!” I said to myself. “’squeeze me? Bakin’ powda? I think you must be mistaken. One never ‘starts’ in Down-Dog. Down Dog is a naaaaaaaasty pose. Down Dog is an EEEEEEVIL pose. Down Dog is a pose that you use to either discipline the class or bend them to your will… later on. One should not START there!!!!” And start we did. Striking the A-frame pose, our instructor began talking to the class about poses, and about the body. Yep, he talked… and talked… and talked. “Um… hello!” I thought to myself. “Still in down dog… STILL IN DOWN DOG! Why are you still talking? Arms!!!!! Breaking!!!!! UNCLE! I’ll talk, already!!!!!” I wanted to be in a nice and happy pose. Where was laughing pony or drifting cloud or ice cream cone on a hot summer day or some other ethereal-pleasant sounding kinda pose?

I kid you not when I say that the entire rest of the class consisted of poses that I just suck, suck, SUCK at. Yes, I realize that that is probably the best thing in the world for me. One should not stick with the stuff that seams easy. But having said that, the combination of things that felt crappy did not do well for my inner critic. My inner voice sounded too much like that cartoon. “No! Not #57. ANYTHING but #57. For the lovagod, NOT 57!!!!!” followed by similar complaints about every other option.

By the end of the class, as the lights dimmed and we found ourselves in corpse pose, I went out like a light. No, I didn’t head off into some dimension-revealing meditation. I fell right to sleep – out like a light. And I dreamed of crepes! Waking up in a jolt upon hearing my instructor’s voice, I rolled up my mat, still in that groggy-annoyed state that I typically feel when I wake up, and headed for the locker room.

Gods… the hot tub has never felt so good. Damned down dog. Time to put that pose to sleep!