Sunday, I survived my first yoga class in about 2 or 3 years. It was a small class, but well run. I had that awkward moment where I was the oldest person in the room, but I got over it. (That’ll only get more frequent, right?) The studio is new, so it’s not quite finished yet. The folks that run it are getting it there, though. I’ve no doubt it’ll become the tranquil place they envision. But it didn’t phase me. I have a history of working out in places that were far worse (but where I got the best training). Plus, I’m Filipino; training in garages, backyards, on concrete, etc. is in my DNA.
I didn’t quite survive unscathed, though. I was doing pretty well at first; there wasn’t a single pose the whole class that I hadn’t attempted before. But about 3/4 of the way through, all those intercostal muscle spasms came back. I dealt with it at first, but then I had to stop for a bit until the very end.
|Not proper yoga mindset.|
I pushed for two reasons. 1) I constantly mistake yoga classes for my old kung-fu classes where, if you feel too strained to execute a move or drill at full force, then you do it slowly using the best technique you can bring yourself to muster and 2) I’m just stubborn by nature. One of the very few things that life hasn’t beaten out of me quite yet is the idea that it’s better to light an inch than curse the dark.
It’s just that sometimes, that attitude has less to do with following through with goals and more to do with defying whatever’s keeping me down. Even if it’s myself. It’s like that old joke about the parrot who resists its owner trying to teach it not to constantly say “Fuck you.” Finally, the owner gets frustrated and throws the parrot in the freezer. And when he opens the freezer the next day, he finds the parrot frozen with it’s middle finger raised.
Sure, maybe passive-aggression against myself isn’t the healthiest way to pursue goals but hey… whatever works.