Since the running injury in the fall, I’ve been forcing myself to take yoga at least once a week (well, usually only once a week, though I also practice by myself once a week). I’m still forcing myself: I’m not particularly excited about giving up a morning of running or rest for a morning of contortions and bad music and namastes. But I push on, mostly because, well, it works. I tend to feel better after a yoga class: my injury feels healed, I’m more flexible, and I usually run very well the next day.
But the other day was different. The yoga class I go to is very, very beginning, and I like that. Also, the instructor focuses on different areas of the body, addressing the needs of several of us in the class (I’m known, not always so fondly, as Annie’s Hip Day). But it seems she now wants us to actually advance to more difficult moves, so the other day was Inversion Day: poses that required us to trust our balance and our core or arm strength, and not accidentally break our necks.
I have a serious problem with any pose or activity that requires me to be upside down. When I was in elementary school, the gym teacher called my mother up (those were the days) and complained that I refused to participate on rope climbing AND tumblesault days. Well, being an ex-jock, this truly disturbed mom, so she spent an entire evening trying to show me how easy a tumblesault was.
She got so angry (and this is now family legend) that she threw one of her high heeled shoes that just so happened to be lying near us into the wall, creating a lovely hole (we were renting at the time making the hole particularly problematic for my not very house-savvy single mother).
After the high heel hole incident, mom gave up trying to teach me to tumblesault, and I gave up ever trying to do one. To this day, still haven’t. The gym teacher must have just given up on me, too.
So, when the yoga instructor tried to convince me that the crow (pictured above) or the tripod were very easy poses, and that I certainly had the strength to do them, I rebelled and sulked in child’s pose for the rest of the class.
My inner elementary aged child took over.