Past two years, with minor bilateral shoulder surgery and sciatica, other than some yoga I've done on my own, I haven't been to a yoga class. Finally went to a yoga class today. Here's what I love about yoga.
If earthworms exercised, and instead of earthworm Jim sprinting down the sidewalk for half a block to risk trampling, sun-scorch, asphalt ass-burn, Robin-depredation, dehydration, being picked up for hook duty as fish bait or wearing out all his cartilage, he simply did a plank between two rocks, he would get all the same benefits without the considerably high chance of death.
That is the same as me doing yoga rather than other workouts.
Because afterwards I feel like I just participated in same extreme, dangerous, crazy sport when the most distressing thing I had to experience was, not having my own mat and wondering who the last person was that did Child's Pose or Dying Roadkill Pose on my communal mat.
It also allows me to have that same sensation I had back in high school after a wrestling work out--the euphoria of to-the-max exercised-induced nausea.
But unlike high school wrestling--instead of a bunch of brooding, sweaty grunting men there where a few attractive females that I could pretend were admiring my warrior pose.
Lastly, even though I know competition is anathema in yoga, there is always at least some much younger well built guy whose legs were popping more than me and who was falling out of poses sooner than me.
Thank you yoga. I love you. With you all things are possible again.
Loren M. Lambert © January 14, 2013
If earthworms exercised, and instead of earthworm Jim sprinting down the sidewalk for half a block to risk trampling, sun-scorch, asphalt ass-burn, Robin-depredation, dehydration, being picked up for hook duty as fish bait or wearing out all his cartilage, he simply did a plank between two rocks, he would get all the same benefits without the considerably high chance of death.
That is the same as me doing yoga rather than other workouts.
Because afterwards I feel like I just participated in same extreme, dangerous, crazy sport when the most distressing thing I had to experience was, not having my own mat and wondering who the last person was that did Child's Pose or Dying Roadkill Pose on my communal mat.
It also allows me to have that same sensation I had back in high school after a wrestling work out--the euphoria of to-the-max exercised-induced nausea.
But unlike high school wrestling--instead of a bunch of brooding, sweaty grunting men there where a few attractive females that I could pretend were admiring my warrior pose.
Lastly, even though I know competition is anathema in yoga, there is always at least some much younger well built guy whose legs were popping more than me and who was falling out of poses sooner than me.
Thank you yoga. I love you. With you all things are possible again.
Loren M. Lambert © January 14, 2013
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