Thursday, August 10, 2006

Death By Yoga

I have discovered a pathway that opens up heretofore unknown levels of self-loathing. It is called "Gentle Kripalu Yoga" and I am certain it was spawned by Satan, as I exited the hour and a half class (hour and a half!) contemplating the many forms of suicide that might be immediately available between the yoga room door and the front desk of the racquet club.

KRIPALU - A gentle class for a beginner or OLDER yoga student.
I love how "older" is double-emphasized, although I guess they could have twisted the knife a bit more with boldface and italics. Anyway. I think I was supposed to tap into my inner consciouness and external energy patterns and some fountain of light, but I ended up spending 90 minutes cataloguing all the body parts I hate and the new, wonderful ways my new friend Kripalu was making them hurt.

In rough order, I hate my ripped-up knees that keep me from sitting cross-legged like a good little yogista, my tweaked hip flexor that compounds the cross-legged-sitting pain, and my beer gut that gets in the way of the legs and prevents the key breathing from (through? I wasn't sure) my navel, then I circle back around for a fresh round of specific hate directed at the surgically repaired left knee that can't tolerate being knelt on, even on a squishy yoga mat, for more than about 15 seconds, then more general hate of my left achilles tendon, which refuses to be anything approaching pliable, of my repeatedly banged and partially separated and now arthritic shoulders, and finally of my neck, which grinds and pops alarmingly when put through what are supposed to be soothing rotations.

I turn 39 next week. The last 30 years of competetive sports have apparently aged my joints a bit ahead of the rest of me. All in all, a discouraging experience, although it was an interesting study in good old negative spiraling. It made me want to run up to the weight room and do pulldowns in a blind rage, but the instructor had cunningly put her mat right in front of the door, so there was no escaping.

On my list of things to do once I have attained that marvelous grownup age next Friday is to be more accepting of both the moment and my existence within it. Hoo ha ha. I'll keep you all posted on how that's going.

No comments: