Once upon a time, I was like many of you. Ignorant, unversed in the ways of yoga-lore. Prior to freshman year, the main impression all those crunchy yoga-freaks left on me was mainly the thought that people participating in weekly yoga classes were essentially participating in a form of what I liked to think of as “glorified stretching.” Essentially, if one was not dripping in sweat or panting from lack of oxygen after an hour or so of exercise, then I would hardly have been able to term that activity as exercise at all.
This notion persisted in some form or fashion up until last week where, after attending a hardcore yoga class at the Sanderson, I awoke the next morning with such a great soreness (those who enjoy sports or working out understand what I mean by this) that I stopped and realized, “Hey. Yoga is kind of awesome.”
It’s difficult to convey how shocking of a notion this was to someone used to gazing out at the sea of yoga mats and yoga pants filled with men and women doing absurd contortionist poses with silly names that hardly resemble the things they’re named after.
Though I can’t remember specifics, one move involved twisting various limbs around other limbs until you’re so thoroughly wadded up that it would take a team of firefighters to extricate someone from the nefarious trappings of their own appendages. Add to this the ridiculous assortment of yoga-themed products (yoga straps for yoga mats, headbands, special gripping socks and other various yoga-themed items emblazoned with trees and various “earthy” symbols that tend to only evoke utter disdain for their owners). And don’t even think about mentioning Yogi tea.
But then, after only three years of sporadically going to a yoga class every three or so weeks (whenever a “break” or good “stretching” was in order), it hit me: Yoga is awesome, and it only took one truly great session to undo 21 years of anti-yoga sentiments — fueled in part, no doubt, by years of playing “real” sports (does cross country count?) — but when it clicked, it really clicked. The obsession made sense.
The realization hit that for anyone to really get into yoga, one has to actually get into it. For those doubters out there, something that may help with your yoga experience is to — really and truly — buy into it. Immerse yourself into the class.
When the instructor starts describing your body melting like a pad of butter in a skillet, don’t smirk and look around the room, punk. For those 30 seconds, you are a melting pad of butter slipping and sliding around a skillet. Embrace this, or it’s a guarantee that every yoga experience will be somewhat disappointing.
Yoga is one of those things that is best with a good instructor and dope music. It successfully manages to energize, relax, stretch and strengthen. It is so much more than just stretching and insane people who wake up at 5 a.m. in order to go to 6 a.m. yoga (you people are insane). It’s a workout, and it’s also something that is enjoyable and makes you feel good about yourself. Now go forth and do a “downward-dog-corpse-fish-camel-tree pose” or whatever the heck they call it.