Yoga and Me

I went to my first yoga session yesterday. I didn’t even know I was going to yoga. My chiropractor recommended going to the “movement specialist” who works out of their office. My neck is a mess. The chiropractor thought the movement specialist could help.
“Have you ever done yoga,” the nice lady said. ‘
“Um, no,” I stammered as I noticed her shoes were off and there were mats on the floor. I suddenly wondered if my feet might smell really bad if I had to take my shoes off. Also, the room was really small and I have personal space issues. But, I committed myself earlier this year to trying to improve my mind, body and health. So, I took my shoes off and just hoped I didn’t have the first stinky feet she had ever smelled. It is hard to focus though on being calm and relaxed if you are trying to smell your feet.
I’m the first to admit I’m a serious type A personality. I’m uptight, stressed, you name it. I’m a mess. After an hour of yoga I discovered I’m also about as limber as a brick. I feel absolutely certain that I used to be young and limber and somehow now I’m older, fatter, and far less limber. It did not help that the yoga instructor appeared to be older than I am and she could bend better than Gumby.
I threw myself into the session with as positive of an attitude as I could muster. After all, on Sunday, I discovered I could not mount my horse without a mounting block. My legs do not bend enough to get one leg in the stirrup and then have enough limber left to swing the other leg over Cisco’s back. So, it’s either become more limber, get a shorter horse or never, ever get off during a ride.
The yoga instructor was great. She did her best not to make me feel like a complete and utter failure. She told me everyone is different, at “our age” no one is as limber as they once were unless they have been working on it, etc. I’m thinking, “yeah, I’m old, fat, and move like a brick.” I can tell I need to work on my inner being.
At the end she asked me to lay on the floor and she covered my eyes with some kind of warm, sage smelling thing. She covered me with a blanket and told me to practice breathing (where was she at the dog show a few weeks ago when I kept forgetting to breath). I was supposed to push my air to my various limbs. I was supposed to clear my mind. I was still worried about my stinky feet and how the hell I was ever going to get my butt back up off the floor. Like I said, my inner being still has a long way to go.
But, I’m going back. Maybe I can work up from a brick to a piece of at least clay.
And if you see me and you notice I’m hunching my shoulders up to my ears and I look tense and I’m not breathing, please calmly say, “breath Connie, breath.”