Yoga

This Saturday kicks off my race season--a half marathon on Catalina island with Big Harry. At the end of the month, I am on a team with Kent, Dave, and several others doing a 200 mile relay race in Arizona. At the beginning of March, I have another half marathon in Moab, UT with a good portion of the extended family. At the end of March, I have the Oceanside half-Ironman. Finally, in June I have a 10k mud run at Camp Pendleton with some ward people.

I mention this for three reasons:
1. To sound awesome
2. To broadcast my future whereabouts to would-be stalkers
3. To explain why I went to a yoga class for the first time

As part of my overall preparation, I wanted to work on flexibility and core body strength. The 24 Hour Fitness I go to is crowded all of the time and their mats are super gross--they seriously smell like a can of dog food, if you opened that can while your head was in a flatulent horse's colon. I can do weights or treadmill, but beyond that a man has to set limits.

Yoga seemed like the perfect fit--close to my house, I bring my own mat, plenty of space to maneuver, and I can work on both flexibility and core strength. That is why I went once. This is why I am going to make it a regular affair:

1. Even the beginner class was really, really hard. Not just unpleasant hard, but my legs shaking to the point of collapse hard. I didn't expect that. By the end of the night, sweat was running down my legs, off my arms, and dripping like a leaky faucet from my chin. This wasn't even the Bikram yoga where the pump up the heating to 100 degrees.

2. The yoga mumbo jumbo was omnipresent--"be respectful of what your body is telling you," "find your space," "I want the breathing in this room to echo off the ceiling," etc. Sitar music was playing in the background. The attendant gave me herbal tea and offered to recycle the paper on which I printed directions to the studio. We even ended "the practice" with 5-minutes of adult nap time--instructor turned out the lights and everyone laid on their mat and meditated. While everyone else was meditating, I was smiling ear to ear thinking of how this is all New-Agey BS and also thinking about how much I totally dig it.

3. Hot women--this is where they are. Not at 24 Hour Fitness, not at the city pool, not running or biking on the boardwalk. I checked all those places. They are all here doing yoga. The class was filled with lithe 20-somethings (and a few legitimately hot cougars) who get turned on by natural clothing, environmental sustainability, and voting for Obama. I love it.

All of life is just acting anyway. Yoga is a key part of playing the "everything between LA and NYC is flyover country," "I cried when Al Gore received the Nobel prize," "I work for the Man but oppose the Man," "I voted for Obama as a Get Out of Jail Racist Free card," California liberal. I relish it. Maybe I will take up a dance class as well--the gay factor would put a quint-fecta in play. And more hot girls.