Stretch yourself

So this week I was thinking back to my first yoga class. It was a little rough. \nFirst, there was trying to find the room in the rat maze they call the Wildermuth Intramural Center. Then there was making sure I wasn’t the only guy in the class. And finally, trying to learn the stuff but not be “that guy,” that so many of my friends warned me about. (I was supposed to try, but not too hard. Be good, but not too good, etc.)\nAnyway, after the first couple of weeks, everyone settled into the class without constantly looking around to make sure everyone else was going to do that bend the instructor just did. Everyone was a little anxious about the whole thing.\nI kind of picture it like that “America’s Funniest Home Videos” clip with the groomsmen dancing together. They all have paper bags over their heads as they head out onto the dance floor so they can’t see each other. Except, after a few seconds they all took their bags off and stopped dancing except for this one poor guy. He continued for quite some time.\nSo in a way, the first weeks of my yoga classes were like that – with no one wanting to be the person with the bag over his or her head.\nAnyway, I’m telling you all of this because this weekend I had to make up a yoga session. We had the option of either attending another HPER yoga class or going down to our instructor’s studio on the square to attend one of her other classes.\nSince the other IU classes all interfered with my schedule, I decided to head down Saturday morning to get my first taste of what a “real” yoga class was like.\nHowever, as the date got closer and closer I found myself strangely nervous about the whole thing. First off, I didn’t know exactly where it was (and even if I did, given my sense of direction, there’s no telling how long it would take me to get there). Also, I pictured a bunch of hardcore, nimble people bending in strange ways and talking in some Near Eastern language.\nOf course, that was all preposterous. But try telling that to the little voice in your head. I don’t know about you, but mine never seems to listen to reason.\nAnyway, I arrived at the class Saturday morning a little early, giving myself time to find the right room. I stumbled into a couple of wrong studios whose instructors politely pointed me to where I was going.\nAnd do you know who was there when I finally arrived? Three older women who were just as flexible (or lack thereof) as I was. They seemed very nice. I breathed a sigh of relief.\nI did notice that they didn’t talk much though. I suppose it was nice of them to make me feel welcome by not showing off their Sanskrit fluency.