Bold move, printing your name on the FRONT of your work-out tee
Yes! I love having an excuse to begin my post with a picture of Olivia Newton John. My dad would be drooling right now. Well, if he ever decided to actually check out my blog, that is.
Let's get real for a second. These days I'm living in a foreign country. A country whose language is a terror to try to learn. I'm here for a solid 6 months at least...have nothing but time on my hands...would kill for a part-time job but again, don't speak the language. This leaves me with a full 14 hours a day to come up with excuses to not go to the gym.
"Gosh, I just showered last night. Do I really want to go get all sweaty less than 10 hours later?"
"Dang, I shouldn't have eaten that bowl of cereal. Guess I better postpone my work-out another 4 hours. Don't want to get a cramp."
"You're supposed to "recover" at least 3 days a week, right?"
"You know, I read somewhere that blogging burns calories."
Anyway, you get my drift.
I know my sister is screaming at her iPhone reading this right now because those of you with normal lives would KILL to have a spare hour at the end of the day to hit up the gym.
This would be my sister's reaction. If she were a man. And if she had palms the size of bicycle tires.
But cut me some slack!! I've never been one of those girls who will go to the gym and dilly-dally around the weight-room from noon to 3 or hop on the elliptical for 2 hours on level 1.1. I usually AM the working type. I'm typically lucky to get off work by 5, home by 6 with enough time before dark to squeeze a 40 minute run in. So all this free-time is something I'm continually adjusting to.
Where I'm going with this is today I hit up my very first Polish yoga class. For those of you who don't know, I've been fortunate enough to teach yoga classes overseas in the past - but I've yet to actually take one.
In an attempt to keep from slandering this lovely gentleman's life passion (??) for the next paragraph or so, I'll say this...
Such as the language differs from country to country, so does the style of yoga. My hamstrings are going to be sore as shit tomorrow - but I'm guessing, not in a good way. My ankles are suuuuuuper relaxed but my neck and back are in knots (that's the way you want to feel leaving a yoga class, no??). I straight up sat with my legs and arms crossed while the rest of the class did some lightning fast down-dog-to-bend-your-back-as-quick-and-hard-as-you-can-while-not-breathing-and-then-faster-next-set-for-seven-straight-minutes routine. Tree pose looked like shrub pose. Cat/cow looked more like nutria/horse. And don't even get me started on chaturanga.
I think at one point, this was his ultimate goal.
Also, I almost posted an incredibly horrible/hilarious photo but ultimately felt it was in bad taste. If you want to see what I was considering sharing, google "awkward yoga" and take a look at the second image. Ga-ross.
You don't have to be a master decoder of sarcasm to understand that this class wasn't my favorite. But I'll say this. Dude was passionate about his craft. He really was, and I respect that. I've just never in my life so badly wanted to stand up and say, "Wait, can we just step outside and talk for a few minutes???"
So here is the conundrum I'm faced with tonight. How can I keep this from becoming a "my country does yoga along with everything else better" scenario and instead make it a "here's how I've been taught - wanna give it a try?" situation.
Because here's the thing! I can't stand when people preach that the way they know things is obviously the best and only way. I'm all for taking a nice, long, meandering look around and seeing what strange things might actually be better than what you already know. But these guys could use some Chelsie Kuebler by way of Margo Kellison instructed skills.
***Quick note*** Do yourself a favor and check out Mrs. Yoga (as far as I'm concerned) and this rad video I was lucky enough to be a part of a few years back. But try to hold back the tears you Portland people as Margo moved her talents to the windy city in 2008.
I'll go ahead and wrap this post up with a Namaste, where's the Advil?