Yoga Yokel

Perhaps the better title for this post would be, "How I Made An Idiot of Myself Today."
It started a while ago, this whole 'taking a yoga class' idea. I pass Wake Forest Yoga pretty much every time I come or go from my neighborhood. My friend Sarah wanted to go, and the first class there is free... so, at 9:30 this morning I was wearing yoga pants and a tank on a green mat with a candle lit in front of me and ambient music playing in the background.

Sounds cool, right?
Wrong. Because what happened next was decidedly uncool.
Anne Marie tried yoga.
Anne Marie got in the child's pose, in which I did not resemble a child. Really, it looked more like I was uncomfortably narcoleptic.



















We went on to do the downward dog, where I lost feeling in my palms, had my butt sticking up in the air and never could quite get that pose down pat. It was awkward.






















There were a lot more poses, lots of breathing, some visualizations of balls of light flying in through my nose and down to my spiritual heart, and a few snickers as I took it all in.

By the end of it, I was a little more ready to try new things and I was feeling a little more accomplished. Never did I ever see the next thing coming. The instructor told us to bring our mats to the wall. Oh, boy. Moving the whole mat... using parts of the building. Nowhere good, my friends. We were told to put our butts to the wall, laying on our backs, and stretch our legs to the ceiling. Easier said than done. It took about a dozen 'scooches' to get right up against the wall.


Relaxing? Not so much. Humbling? Oh yes...