Tag Archives: gym

Yogis who look like bodybuilders are not to be trusted.

29 Apr

Based on the number of posts I’ve written about yoga, you might think I fancy myself a real yogi. I don’t. I’ve been practicing yoga for almost ten years, but my body is still stubbornly inflexible. It’s odd since gymnastics then diving carried me through my school years. There’s no trace of that body left.

Last night I found myself lying on my back, eyes covered, relaxing before a packed Flow class at my gym. The door was thrown open so forcefully that my eyes flew open, just in time to see a guy who looked like Tony Danza smiling broadly at everyone. “I am ok,” he began, in what I assume was a Spanish accent. “Last week I popped my tibia out of joint during class. But I was able to pop it back in and I am fine now.”

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Everyone tittered. Except me. I was thinking, “Wait. What? Exactly what happened in class last week that you dislocated your leg? And are we going to do it again this week? Because that’s not what I signed up for…”

Yup. That should’ve been a clue for the level of workout I’d inadvertently signed up for. It was a punishing hour-long practice with lots of chair-pose, push-ups and side planks.

When we finally collapsed into corpse pose with our eyes closed at the end of class, the guy on the mat next to me wasted no time dozing off. His snores were straight out of a cartoon.

As a result, instead of relaxing, I spent my final five minutes lying there, eyeing the guy next to me, wondering how the hell he could fall asleep so quickly. I mean, seriously – the guy snored as soon as we were instructed to close our eyes. Who does that?

I may not have achieved the zen-like state that typically comes with an hour of yoga, but – on the other hand – I also didn’t pop my tibia. All told, I’m considering it a win.

 

 

 

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I might need crutches.

26 Nov

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About seven years ago, I canceled my gym membership and started using the money on yoga studios instead. I love yoga and believe in its healing benefits, but – no matter how much I sweat or how many push-ups I do – it is NOT a gym workout.

My body has been reminding me of that lately, most frequently when I go to wave goodbye to someone and smack myself in the face with the loose skin wagging under my tricep – something my childhood friend, Ryan, always referred to as a, “Yoo-hoo.” You know what I’m talking about.

So a week ago, I bit the bullet and joined a gym. And I can’t believe how much I’ve missed it. It feels like freedom to go whenever I want. There are three locations within a mile walk of my home, and each has something different I love: a salt-water pool, a robust class schedule, a steam room.

That said, my return has not been painless. Yesterday, for instance, I made a collosol colossol HUGE mistake. I saw that there was a 45 minute “BodyPump” class and thought, “That sounds like a great alternative to just lifting on my own.” FOOL.

Tip: anything that rhymes with “Shoddy Dump” is probably a horrible idea.

If you’re not familiar with BodyPump (clearly I wasn’t!) it’s 45 minutes of lifting/squatting/pressing free weights and barbells to techno music. The music is key because it makes you do it quickly, which means that not only are you stressing your muscles, but you’re also getting all sweaty and out of breath.

It looked harmless when I walked in, though in hindsight, I should’ve realized that there was not a single YooHoo! in sight. I arrived close to the start time, so I looked around and tried to copy the props of the women around me. A step, a yoga mat, a bar with some weights clamped on, some free weight discs…

Notice how vague I was about how much weight was clamped on to the bars? Yeah, probably should’ve paid more attention. In my rushed attempt to mirror what was going on, I didn’t actually think about how much weight I’d be lifting – or the fact that the other people in the class probably weren’t brand spankin’ new.

Let’s just agree: Bad idea. About twenty minutes into class, my mouth started salivating like I was going to vomit. Since I’m competitive, I kept powering through. Finally, at the thirty minute mark, I started stripping plates off my bar, tossing them to the floor like frisbees, ego be damned. And I STILL almost fell down the stairs when class was over.

Today I’m hobbling, which doesn’t bode well for tomorrow, since everyone knows that full soreness sets in 48 hours after the activity. I’m just hoping the worst of it is behind me by Thursday so I can do arm curls with a turkey.

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