I heard the class at the downtown Y was loose and friendly and so I thought I would give yoga what is becoming my Biannual Attempt at Flexibility.

I walk into the room and it is dark. In fact, the light is never turned on. This is good, I like this.

I take a place at the far back of the room and for the next 45 minutes, proceed to pretzel myself into oblivion. But as difficult as the moves were, I kinda start to get into the swing of things. I could’ve have done without the country music playing during the cool down, but whatever. I am sore like you wouldn’t believe the next day.

The next time, I make the mistake of not spitting out my chewing gum before class. The progress I made previously was completely gone. Apparently my flow, Chi, foreign fiscal policy, whathaveyou, was totally out of whack. I think I might actually be able to blame it on the gum.

Third class: No gum, still the country music, and an enormously pregnant woman the next mat over performing poses I am convinced no pregnant woman ought do less she wants to give birth to a Rubiks Cube. Whoa! Sister! Put that leg back where it belongs! I move my mat to the back of class just to be on safe side. One wrong move and I could have a baby shooting out at me like a cannon ball.

Fast forward:

Twelfth Class: I am no more flexible than the day I walked in. I am still sore and miserable upon leaving class. I feel no peace. No serenity befalls me. I don’t feel like one with anything except maybe the floor since I constantly fall upon it in my numerous failed attempts as trying to twist into poses I can’t master.

Meanwhile. Next door. In the weight room. I hear the radio. Normal music. Non-country music. I hear the guys joking. I hear the clanking of the weights. I hear the ribbing of a last repetition not completed…

And like a child following the Pied Piper-

I get up off my mat-

Drift out of the yoga studio-

Float across the hallway like a soft and gentle breeze-

Re-merge into the dense and smelly room of free-weight activity-

Some guys call out greetings-

I am immediately asked to spot someone-

I feel peace.

Serenity befalls me.

I am one with my bench press.

I am home.

And more importantly, I am not doing yoga…