For anyone who thought yoga was a waste of time …
Originally published between 2011 and 2014, this post has been updated but preserves its original publish date as content is migrated from the archives of The Flavored Word.
I am a runner. No, no, no. I am not running from the law or a rabid dog or the neighbor down the street who never, ever seems to shut up. The other kind—the kind that laces her shoes, takes off down the road for a few miles and sweats, a lot. I’ve always been a runner. Always. Good for my heart, yes. Good for my 20-year-old body, yes. Good for my 40-year-old body, abso-fickin-lutely! Although, I have to admit, I have had my fair share of overuse injuries over the years—yes, I’m one of those who runs through the pain no matter how much the small sane side of my mind tells me not to … hence the overuse injuries … hence the debut of my inner yogi …
I went to my first hot yoga class about two years ago. I sauntered in, positioned my mat near the front (I mean how hard could yoga be? I could run a six-minute mile. How hard can a few animal-inspired poses be?) Sixty minutes later, my six-minute mile ass was kicked, and my skin puckered like a child who’s sat in the bathtub for too long.
Now I know I probably should have succumbed to be a happy baby for the later portion of the class instead of trying to prove my stamina was up to the challenge of the vinyasa flow, but my competitive nature wouldn’t allow it. And so, I made it all the way to “Namaste,” nodded my head, rolled up my mat and exited, stage left, as fast as I could. The next morning, I was so frikin’ sore I could hardly breathe. The cobra had bitten my shoulders and my inner thighs wanted to chop down every tree I saw … never mind that the mere thought of a lotus flower made me want to chuck. And I vowed to never return. Ever. I’ll take my open roads and my overuse injuries, thank you very much.
But … yea … I did go back. A few weeks later, humbled, I put my mat in the middle row and low and behold … here I sit, two years later—not as enlightened as I’d like to be—but unquestionably a better runner because I am now also a yogi. A yogi, mind you, who’s been able to flow through life injury free thanks to the ancient practice and a few animal-inspired poses.
Now repeat after me … Yoga is good for me. Yoga is good for me. Yoga is good for me. Do I sound like the Little Engine that Could? Nah. I sound like the little engine that does : )
Cover image is me at the start of the Indy Mini Marathon in 2013.
DISCLAIMER: I’m a writer and an editor. And I try my best to make sure every post is articulate and free from errors. However, being that I edit my own work—and it’s next to impossible to properly edit your own work—I admit, occasionally there may be an error or two I miss. But doing so doesn’t make me an idiot so don’t be mean. Just smile, pat yourself on the back for finding an error and be glad you’re not the only one who makes mistakes sometimes … xoxox
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