Yoga

So it was early Sunday morning that we took the train into the city and headed towards the Academy. I picked a gym location just a few blocks away that was offering a yoga class while Roc would be hurling himself up against (and hopefully over) the wall. Here's a little-known fact about those of us in the fitness industry: we don't always get a chance to work out. I know it sounds cliche, but it's true: you get into the industry because you love to work out, but sometimes in the midst of teaching everyone else just how to work out, well...it's hard to find time to yourself.
As I gave him a kiss and wished him well, I realized I was actually looking forward to taking a Yoga class. I teach Yoga myself, but it's not my forte, and I always love to learn more, especially when I'm not the expert. I headed into class and looked around. There were about nine people on mats already; they looked half-awake, but they were there on time, so that was a good sign. A few minutes later the instructor walked in. Here's a little confession: I love to see how another instructor initiates the class. It's sort of like being an industrial spy---and for a brief moment---I get to be on the other side.
She looked normal. She greeted us with a peaceful smile, the type of smile you feel a Yoga instructor should have. I was ready to go. Then she put on the music, and what to my wondrous ears should appear: Hare Krishna music. Some sort of wailing and chanting and definitely something that kept saying something about Hare Krishna. Now don't get me wrong: to each his own. I am not interested in the Hare or the Krishna, but I am taking a Yoga class, and I get that some people are into that. All I know is that I was so distracted by the sounds emanating from the stereo that I could barely hold a Down-Dog without laughing my Yoga ass right off. I tried hiding my face in a towel. I tried blocking it out, humming my own tune in my head. No dice. I didn't want to leave. Note to all exercise participants: it's rude to leave an exercise class in the middle. It's especially distracting to new instructors. So I didn't want to move over to the dark side, but I could barely focus and I found myself praying for the class to end. To Jesus, of course.
Once ended, I escaped as quickly as possible and then headed out onto the street. I was going to meet Roc at a nearby cafe and commiserate. For once, he didn't look entirely miserable as I saw him walking up the street.
"So how did it go?" I asked expectantly.
"It actually went pretty well." He told me about the instructor who was there to help them, and the fact that he actually made it over the wall a couple of times. "Now I just have to do it on the day of the test."
"You can. You will." I was suddenly glad we made the trip.
"So how was your class?" He asked after placing his coffee order.
I made a sound somewhere between a wail and a chant.