Class 3 Yoga
Or
I’m Not Gumby Dammit
~
It would seem as a middle aged man, slightly overweight and somewhat opinionated I should have this Yoga thing down pat by now – but I am here to say I do not – yet.
Last night was class 3, and I am now getting the hang of it, I suspect after 1 or 2 more classes and I should be an expert.
I mean I am getting the moves down – the Downward Dog, The Nasty Nun and the Dead Parrot, I own these – seriously I own them. But then suddenly a spanner was thrown in as the instructor had us move to another pose. Squatting down on the right knee we are told to extend the left leg out straight “Stretch you hammies” she says – I cannot repeat what I thought as I felt the searing pain that only permanent physical damage can do.
“Now” she says place your palms on the floor and drop your chest onto your left thigh. My chest is approximately 2 feet from my thigh and won’t budge, my “Hammy” as she calls it is screaming at me “Stop this you F’in fool” so I go to the next step – emotional connection. This is where I channel a former me who has done this at some time in my life.
Suddenly I can see it, I remember this position, unfortunately the last time I did was when Elton John’s Bennie and the Jets was number one on the music charts and I was with my first love in school – and we had bought the book “Kama Sutra – 245 sex positions with Pictures”.
I suddenly realize then like now it hurt like hell and didn’t work.
That’s the wonderful thing about aging I realize – these days Kama Sutra is a restaurant in downtown Sydney which serves a great curry, and sex has 1 position that allows for the 2 main features – fast and painless.
As I focus back to the now I hear the Instructor “If you hurt in any of these positions then stop – it’s not supposed to hurt” – well this flies in the face of 60 years of education where dammit it is supposed to hurt – all of it – dammit.
I think “Dam it hurt walking here” – I look over at Marina she is smiling “Dam her too” I think.
There are 2 things I now know to be true “Never trust a Yoga Instructor when they say it doesn’t hurt – and – once you pass 50 never trust a fart”. Both have similar consequences.
Yoga ends and I go home and – eat chocolate. Discipline needs to be tested I think – and I fail.
Class 4 beckons this weekend – perhaps I will be rundown by a drunken bus driver and saved from this agony. If I am – remember me kindly …
