Noga
I want to like yoga, so. Very. Badly. I daydream of being a regular in a class where I’m friends with a 70-year-old man in tights and sometimes afterward go out for a cup of free trade coffee with a co-yogi named like Ki, or Sunbeam or something. I want to bend like a banana peel does when it gracefully rolls off the fruit. I want to be so in tune with my third eye that I can use it to read a book and cook dinner at the same time.
But dannnng can those classes get pricey. There’s a yoga loft near me (you know, in a cool building just like the videos), but fulfilling my yoga dream there would cost almost the same amount as my weekly groceries. A homemade roasted chicken > yoga. One time I took a hot yoga class. There’s an awkwardly sweaty reason why I only took one. My office gym has a Thursday yoga session, but it’s at a bad time for me. My personal gym has yoga, and it also has 9,000 muscle meatheads that clink and clank excessive amounts of weights right outside the studio door. Negative zen.
I have a yoga book, and I’ve gone as far as to use it twice and then place it strategically in different corners of my room in attempt to prompt more yoga time. Sometimes I forget about it and find it later when I vacuum. I do incorporate a few yoga moves into my normal stretching routine, but it’s still not enough to get me into a headstand. Dang, I really wish I could do a headstand.
This morning I tried a Runner’s World pre-run stretch workout that felt yoga-inspired. I rolled around on my rug, grunting and straining, struggling to get into the shoulder-stand position. When I finally did, I unconfidently watched my legs wobble confused-like above me. I wasn't so sure I wouldn’t snap my own neck in the process.
Honestly, I don’t like yoga because I’m not good at yoga. It takes a lot of patience, discipline and practice—none of which I’m all that interested in devoting to it right now. Do I really have to practice? How many practices does it take to master the firefly pose? Can’t I just BE an awesome yoga do-er?
But dannnng can those classes get pricey. There’s a yoga loft near me (you know, in a cool building just like the videos), but fulfilling my yoga dream there would cost almost the same amount as my weekly groceries. A homemade roasted chicken > yoga. One time I took a hot yoga class. There’s an awkwardly sweaty reason why I only took one. My office gym has a Thursday yoga session, but it’s at a bad time for me. My personal gym has yoga, and it also has 9,000 muscle meatheads that clink and clank excessive amounts of weights right outside the studio door. Negative zen.
I have a yoga book, and I’ve gone as far as to use it twice and then place it strategically in different corners of my room in attempt to prompt more yoga time. Sometimes I forget about it and find it later when I vacuum. I do incorporate a few yoga moves into my normal stretching routine, but it’s still not enough to get me into a headstand. Dang, I really wish I could do a headstand.
This morning I tried a Runner’s World pre-run stretch workout that felt yoga-inspired. I rolled around on my rug, grunting and straining, struggling to get into the shoulder-stand position. When I finally did, I unconfidently watched my legs wobble confused-like above me. I wasn't so sure I wouldn’t snap my own neck in the process.
Honestly, I don’t like yoga because I’m not good at yoga. It takes a lot of patience, discipline and practice—none of which I’m all that interested in devoting to it right now. Do I really have to practice? How many practices does it take to master the firefly pose? Can’t I just BE an awesome yoga do-er?