My housemate is a bit of a fan of yoga. I discovered this after convincing her to join the gym with me so she could motivate me to keep going. Instead of fight-do and megadanz classes (yes, that's really what they're called) like I'd envisioned, this morning I found myself, bum in the air, listening to wind chimes and the sound of waves at a yoga class.
I don't mind yoga. I find it gives me a sense of smugness and an urge to eat lentils and do art. But the woman taking this class robbed me of all the smugness I'd hoped for by being a baggy panted contortionist. I'm not kidding, she offered up instructions like 'hook your shoulders under your knees, then place your hands backwards on the floor and balance on your fingertips.' My other favourite was given while we were balanced, upside down, on our shoulders: 'defy gravity! Feel your organs rearranging...'
Now, I don't mind a bit of a challenge, but as I was desperately groping to find the fingers of my left hand, which was twisted somewhere behind my back, I looked to my housemate for a bit of moral support. It was very disheartening to find her casually twisted around one knee, with her hands pressed in the prayer position behind her back, eyes closed, and the smile of the lentil eating art doer on her face.
The part of this class that I was best at was the bit at the end when we got to sit cross legged in silence to find inner peace. In fact, I was so good at it that I fell asleep.
So that's the basis of my new exercise regime. Forget fight-do and megadanz, I'm just going to take naps.
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