This is about how I spent the money that I saved buying discounted school supplies. Don't worry. I promise I will blog about shopping for school supplies later.
I wasn't sure how to title this blog. Alternate titles that I considered included:
Journey Back to the Gym;
Mom Time;
The Human Body is Awesome; or
Maybe I've Still Got What It Takes (which reminds me - Sue, do you remember the conversation we had a couple weeks ago about how we've reached that bittersweet point in life when guys don't turn and look at us anymore? Not that it was ever really a good thing when this did happen. Well, the other day I was loading the kids and purchases in the car at the hardware store. I noticed a guy walking to his car and a laughing woman, who I assumed was his wife. The woman said to me, "Do you want to know why I'm laughing? That guy just said that he would like to run across the parking lot and tackle you." I wanted to yell at the guy for being so crude; and then wanted to yell at the woman who was possibly being even cruder. I also wanted to ask her exactly why she was laughing. Was she some kind of perv or was it the notion of some guy wanting to tackle me that was so funny? But, I just cringed and got in my car. So, maybe I still have a little of what it takes. But, maybe it still isn't a good thing.)
Actually, this post is about how, after many years, I finally returned to the gym. It's not that I don't exercise. I routinely get up before dawn to walk, swim, lift weights, and clean house. But, the exercise app on my iPad is painfully boring and I thought that it would be much more fun to exercise with real people. I concluded that some of the money I saved from bargain hunting was rightfully mine and decided to try a 30-day membership at the local recreation center. I don't remember when I last participated in a group exercise class. I have a vague memory of running across a parking lot, late to class, with Cassie on my hip. Clearly, it's been years.
Yesterday, I decided it was time. I tore through my dresser in search of yoga pants and finally found a pair that had only one hole. I inventoried my public self - legs didn't need to be shaved and pedicure was looking good. The kids were content with a movie so I headed out.
As I paid for my pass at the gym, the attendant asked if I wanted a new photo or the one on file from when I had a swimming pass two years ago. It had been quite awhile since I last looked in the mirror so I asked him to use the old picture. I joined the growing group of exercisers waiting outside the classroom door for the yogilates class. (Yoga latte?) Glancing down at my flip-flops, I had a brief moment of panic. Was yoga still done barefoot or should I have worn shoes? I envisioned myself having to observe from the back of the class. The doors swung open and people began jockeying for their favorite spot in the room. I followed the one guy in the group. He showed me where to stow my gym bag and advised me to take a yoga block from the cabinet. I took my yoga mat from my bag and spread it in the back row, relieved to see that my mat looked relatively like everyone else's, although it's probably 10 years old.
I breathed deeply and looked around the room, trying not to stress. Would I be able to hang for the full 45-minute class? What would I do if I couldn't keep up? I noticed one woman who had taken wipes from her gym bag and was furiously scrubbing the floor surrounding her mat. I guess she was worried about germs. Another woman left the room and returned toting a vacuum cleaner and laboriously vacuumed a spread of floor before setting her mat down. A third woman was carrying out some massive stretching exercises in the back of the room, while a couple other women left the room. I realized that there were a lot of good delaying tactics going on. If I got tired I could leave in search of a bathroom or water fountain. Plus, I had seen a coffee pot in the lobby. (Yoga latte?)
Suddenly, the instructor turned off the lights and turned on the music. The music was nice. The lights off wasn't so great. It was raining outside and it was really dark. I struggled to see the instructor and to try to look at myself in the mirror to see if I had a "flat back and slightly bent knees." A woman returned from the lobby and planted herself right in front of me. So much for looking at myself in the mirror. Then, another woman began making incredibly loud breathing sounds kind of like this, "WHOOSH! WHOOSH!" I carefully looked around. Nobody else seemed to notice. Was this some new yoga technique? "WHOOSH! WHOOSH! WHOOSH!" she continued.
Before I knew it, 15 minutes had already passed. The instructor routinely circled the room, correcting body positions and offering advice. Every time I felt the floor near me tremble I thought, "Okay. This is where I get embarrassed and have to explain that my poor positions are because I haven't done this in something like 8 years." (The part about the floor trembling is because it was pretty hard to see the instructor from the contorted positions that I was assuming.) But, each time the instructor came near me I got an "awesome" or "beautiful." I even got a thumbs up from her which was really hard to see with my head between my legs.
And then it happened. I was standing with my legs spread, head hanging down and palms on the floor. (If you're thinking that this is going to be some story about passing gas, quit reading. I'm not that rude!) Suddenly, the instructor assumed a mirror image position behind me, her heels touching mine and her buttocks pressed up close, right next to mine! I would have run from the gym except that I was in no position to get up quickly. I started to tell this lady that I didn't even know her name. But, she grabbed my hands and instructed me to pull. "There," she said, "Isn't that giving you a much deeper stretch?" I have to admit, it was quite an awesome stretch. And, maybe I was getting this extra special attention because I could stretch better than anyone else??
As the class ended, I felt a few tears falling down my cheeks. Pain? Sweat? Joy at the realization that my body could still do all this? Hey, I am the Yoga Queen!
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