My 2nd yoga class, in which I keel over in the kitchen

I will be fit! I will be flexible! I will be fabulously calm and enlightened! I have a pretty purple mat AND a tight shirt that will NOT fall over my head to reveal my belly during ‘downward facing dog’!

Welcome to the second installment in my adventures in yoga. Or, perhaps better labeled, my misadventures in yoga.

Second class is what I like to call a butt-kicker; one and a half hours of sheer torture. If I’m not mentally screaming “Ow! my ankle!” it is “Oh, my hip!” or “Oy! my wrists!” Why I pay good money to be guided into severely unnatural positions that cause every muscle and tendon to howl BLOODY MURDER is beyond me. Yet the truth is I find it oddly satisfying… After class I walk home in what might even be called a relaxed state (me? relaxed? who knew it was possible?!). It may even be an enlightened state. As it turns out, it’s definitely a tipsy state.

I don’t know if it is the severe muscle fatigue brought on by too much “sun salutations” and “warrior 2″ or if it’s the effect of too much meditation on my rather mushy mind, but soon after arriving home, I find myself having a close encounter with the kitchen floor.

Here’s how it went down. I’m sitting at my computer (yep, straight from yoga to blogging… how sad is that?) when I stand up to fix some salad for dinner. In the middle of my path is a cardboard box full of recycling. My foot catches, and I feel myself start to fall. As if in slow motion I tumble down, trying to catch myself on the wall… the counter… the door frame… each attempt unsuccessful. Until THUMP I find myself back in “flat on the mat” … except this time there’s no mat, just the cold, hard, wow-there’s-a-lot-of-crumbs-down-here kitchen floor.

From downstairs, Jason hears wham BAM THUD! And thinks Oh dear, Jen’s gone down.

Racing up the stairs, he hopes it’s not a stroke.

The sight of my bare feet sticking out from the kitchen doesn’t exactly boost his confidence, and I hear a tinge of fear in his voice when he calls out, “Jenny? Can you speak?”

Meanwhile I am lying on my back, contemplating the ceiling, and considering an Ohm as a way to relax and recover. Instead, I let Jason help me up.

Next week, I think I’ll spend a bit more time on the couch after class.

Namaste.

Originally posted on 5/6/07

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