Yoga: The Sequel

(It's Tuesday night Yoga with Jim and I'm in the Triangle pose)

Jim: As we Triangle, we're strengthenin' our backs. You do this oft' 'nough, yer gon' have a nice strong back to take witchu' to the beach this summer. You'll be runnin' in the sand like the Captain over there, witch'ur nice stroooooong back in a bathin' suit. (pauses) What a stretch.

Let me stop right there. If you have absolutely no idea what I'm talking about when I reference Jim or the Captain, please go back and re-read the post I wrote entitled "Yoga: A History". I would not be doing either of these men any justice if I were to just write some blurb of a description before transitioning to the rest of this post. Go grab a cup of coffee or a glass of wine, take about ten-ish minutes to read that first yoga post, and then pow-wow back to this second installment.

Minor Confession (an appropriate course of action during the season of Lent): I haven't been getting up in the morning to do yoga. I was barely one week (day) into Lent before I totally compromised my decision to discipline my body and spirit through the daily practice of yoga (sidenote: my lunges still suck). In my pathetic defense, let me explain: Last week, I did ten gym classes. You know who else did ten gym classes in six days? Chrissy (our levels of intensity differ somewhat, though...). This is in addition to daily strength training and some miscellaneous pre-class cardio sessions (I usually get to the gym about an hour before my classes actually start, so I fill the time with some kind of "warm up"). You might be thinking I'm overdoing it. You might be wondering if I'm doubling, or tripling, up on classes as a way of jarring my body into dropping these last 50 lbs quickly. The God's honest truth is that I really just enjoy the classes. I want to get to my goal weight and that is still really important to me, but frankly, when I miss one of my classes due to a scheduling conflict or, recently, because of knee issues, I actually miss it. Last Tuesday, when I opted to take Spin and Yoga instead of HIIT, I envied my friends who left HIIT class all red-faced and exhausted.

Just an FYI, when you typically spend your Tuesday nights participating in a "High Intensity Interval Training" class, making the switch to yoga is both surreal and difficult. You see, in HIIT class Chrissy has us doing something different every single minute and at a very fast pace (hence the name of the class). This leaves you with no time to take deep breaths, look back at the clock (unless you're a seasoned pro who can hold out until Chrissy's distracted by her ipod shuffle, thereby avoiding getting caught and being sentenced to extra burpees or squats), or to even think, "Why do I keep doing this to myself every week!?" Yoga with Jim is essentially the complete antithesis of HIIT with Chrissy.

Because the gym is still buzzing with New Year's resolution-makers, Tuesday's yoga class was packed. Last time I went, I was with my friend Tanya and we were basically surrounded by a handful of limber, middle-aged men. There were a few willowy females as well, but the attendance was still pretty light. This time I felt like I was bobbing around in a sea of flexible limbs and yoga mats. Fortunately the structure of the class itself didn't change much in its essentials. Jim was still looking quite snug in his spandex bike shorts. He still sounded like he was saying "breasts" whenever he said "breaths" (which was quite often. And I still giggled like a second grader every time he did). Most importantly, Jim still qualified each and every yoga position with a simile, "Now we're in a cat's pose. And if you do this here stretch right, you should feel as good as a cat stretchin' out in a sunny win-da. What a stretch." After each series of stretches, Jim always says "What a stretch". This phrase in and of itself wouldn't be noteworthy if Jim actually said it with enthusiasm like, "Feel that burn!" or "There ya go!" Instead, Jim repeats "What a stretch" in a monotone voice, as if he is reading off of a cue card with a list of "Things Yoga Instructors Should Say to Break the Awkward Pauses Between Poses". Whenever he says "What a stretch", I am reminded of the great differences between Jim and Chrissy. If Chrissy was somehow forced into taking over a yoga class for Jim, she would probably just make it a "slower" paced HIIT class. She definitely wouldn't be able to handle the long periods of silence and calm, so she would attempt to break this by spontaneously dancing around the room or she'd remain up front and have a one-sided conversation about how serious everyone looks during their stretches. And at some point she would probably burst out with a "HOW WE DOIN'? ALRIGHT?! ...alright...(mumbling) everyone looks so grumpy today...it's only Tuesday..."

And the thing is, after having, like, at least six classes a week with Chrissy for nearly a year, I've noticed that I'm not quite as zen as I once was during Jim's yoga class (which, frankly, wasn't all that much to begin with). In fact, I'm downright impatient. Now, I admit that I'm a fidgety girl by nature; I'm pretty sure God is going to hold me accountable for a lot of Sunday mornings when I've written thank you notes or compiled grocery lists instead of actually listening to sermons. But when it comes to the gym classes, I am actually getting to a point where I expect a certain level of crazy, spontaneous energy and noise. I wasn't even 10 minutes into Jim's class before I started feeling restless. I wanted to move, I wanted to listen to angry music, and I admit it, I wanted Jim to yell "HOW WE DOIN?!" And because God has a wonderful sense of humor, it was right about this time that Chrissy actually crept into the class to retrieve her bag. And by creep, I mean she attempted to "blend in" by downward dogging her way from the classroom door to her messenger bag. So there I was on my mat, hips opened at a very uncomfortable angle, trying hard not to pull anything all while shaking in laughter at her sincere efforts to be incognito. Meanwhile, Jim was both fully lotus and fully unaware of anything happening beyond his mat. As you can imagine, I really couldn't regain my focus after that and I ended up leaving class a bit early and a bit discouraged with change of gym classes.

I didn't have any intention of returning to yoga on Thursday. Then again, I had no intention of doing 5AM Spin or Step that day either, and yet I did both (I may have a problem...). Fortunately, Tanya was there with me for this particular yoga class and I had some much-needed accountability. I'm not sure if I was worn out by the two previous classes or just in a much more mature place (my money's on exhaustion), but I was definitely calmer this second time 'round with yoga. Because I had already pedaled and stepped out all the energy from my body, I was pretty content to follow Jim's lead and move slowly while focusing on my breasts....er, breaths (although I think I went a little overboard by dozing off during the corpse pose).

At some point during his yoga classes, Jim has us stand in mountain pose and think about our intention for the class. The intention could be a word, a feeling, a wish, etc. The point is, we're meant to go through the class with a purpose. I would like to tell you that I chose to focus on words like love, peace, balance, or even God. But I have the same intention for Jim's yoga class that I have for every single one of my gym classes, and it is this simple phrase: Dear God, please let me see this through to the end. Mind you, this intention comes out a bit more frantically before Chrissy's classes, but it's the same nonetheless. It also happens to be the same intention I have for this weight-loss process as a whole: Please, God, let me see this through to the end. You see, to be honest, I kind of half-expected this Lenten yoga resolution of mine to bust. I know that's a terribly defeatist attitude to have, but some old habits die hard. And perhaps if I wasn't already entering my second year of working towards my Big Goal, I might wonder if this Lenten snag wasn't some kind of ominous sign. But here's the thing, my dear New Year's/Lent resolution-makers: I continue to progress toward that Big Goal because my intention is to see it through to the end. I get up every single day knowing that I have to accept the hard and unpleasant truth that this end will only come with time and discipline. A lot of time and discipline.

This past Sunday I went to Catholic church for the first time ever (I only ever went for Ash Wednesday services) and Father Rene (with the fantastic Spanish accent) said, quite poignantly, "I wahnder how many of j'ou have kept j'our Lenten promeeses, ah? Eef j'ou deedn't keep them DON' GEEV UP an' stop altogether! After all, Easter ees steel coming, right? Eef j'ou stopped, start eet back up again! But don'. jus'. geev. up. J'ou steel have time!" When I heard him say that, my heart started pounding in response to truth of that statement. And so I say unto you, my fellow Big Girl/Big Guy: DON' GEEV UP! (I don't have quite the same charisma as Father Rene) You still have time. We still have time. Don't wait until you lose _____lbs to join the gym or to take up (insert exercise activity). All of my blog posts about trying Zumba, Spin, Kickboxing, Running, HIIT, Piloxing, Yoga, Cardio Sculpt, and Step for the first time happened while I weighed over 200 lbs. Yes, I was (am) insecure about being the heaviest, slowest, and least graceful person in the room. But I walked (walk) into that classroom asking (begging) God to to give me the strength to see that workout to the end. God did not respond by giving me super-human strength. He responded by giving me amazing instructors and comrades who took me into this gym community with sensitivity and encouragement on a daily basis. But that's not to say that I don't still give in to my fears, insecurities, and the weight of my situation (no pun inte-...okay, yes, it was intended). I still hit my (symbolic) walls and this Lenten resolution might not be executed perfectly. But despite all of that crap, I, with God's help, will see this through to the end.

So don' geev up! There's steel time.