I have to admit I was a little skeptical when I saw that the yoga instructor at my gym was a man. I knew I was being genderly unfair, but Chris hurried to remind me so anyway by stating that there were plenty of male yoga instructors at our old yoga place.
I'm not sure to whom he is referring as often Chris was the only male in the building let alone doing yoga in the room. There was one instructor in training that was male I guess...
Anyway. I didn't want to be unfair and I quickly moved on to thinking it was neat. I was excited to get to do yoga again. Chris and I had gone to beginner classes every Sunday for a couple of months last year. It was relaxing and nice and I noticed the resulting leanness in my body. The instructors were very helpful and often reminded you not only how to hold your body right, but gave examples of other, easier versions of the poses if you liked. There was a smooth rhythm to it, moving fluidly from one pose to the next and holding. A lot of emphasis was put on breathing properly, being in touch with your body, and pushing yourself gently to the next level, and the background music was relaxing.
Since I've started taking cycle class Friday mornings I was sooo looking forward to this.
I arrived a few minutes late, but the instructor was late too so I was fine.
The lights were dim. Our mats set. Our bare toes wiggling in the cool air. It felt good to be back in the yoga atmosphere.
Then in walked Charlie.
He looked like the type of guy that would laugh at others for doing yoga, not the type of guy that would be leading you in it. Not to mention his muscles were very bulky, not lean and flowly like yoga promised. I know all about books and covers and all that hoha, but sometimes a book's cover does tell the truth. Like the flashy, trashy romance novels. You know exactly what to expect.
Regardless, I kept my hopes up.
He put on yoga music, but it had a hard drum base. I tried, tried, tried not to think "I bet this guy doesn't know anything about yoga" but as we went through very simple moves, most of which were really just stretches more than they were actual "yoga poses" it's all I could think. He didn't correct anyone even though several people weren't holding themselves right and we moved quickly from each position to the next in a very unrelaxing manner.
I ground my teeth. I wasn't enjoying myself, but I tried to think positive thoughts. I was waiting for an official yoga phrase at the very least, but when one came it quickly wore off as we entered downward facing dog for the the third time without anyone telling you were to put the weight.
I knew I couldn't leave and I told myself I was being ridiculous. This was just different than what I was used to.
Then, as we bent down to touch our toes AGAIN (for like the tenth time, no kidding), I was filled with a new resolve. I was going to do all of these "yoga" poses perfectly. I was going to gracefully hold my body and stretch to the limit. I, the novice yoga enthusiast, was going to show these people what they should be doing.
Ridiculous I know.
As the hour progressed we stopped doing planks, lunges, and toe touches and finally started moving into tree poses. At least this was yoga. And then we did warrior.
I was happy to be doing yoga poses but recognized they were still very popular yoga poses. And it was hard to miss that even though the woman in front of me needed to have her arms adjusted, Charlie remained silent.
I guess the yoga lingo relaxed me at any rate and I finally felt the need to stop acting like a douche and remember that in the back of the room, in the dark, in a room full of other yoga novice, no body gave a damn if my chin was a perfect 45 degrees or not.
The second half hour was much more yogay than the first and I did feel a little bad about my previous attitude, but it still bothered me that he didn't give more detailed instructions. He eventually started showing a few versions of different poses, but he was hard to hear and I could tell a few people thought they were doing two different things.
I guess the biggest problem with Charlie was that he didn't give instructions or tell anyone how to adjust or work with their own bodies. He didn't even remind us breathe properly, though sometimes he would tell you to do a certain move on the exhale.
I couldn't figure out if it was him or just because it was a random drop in gym class. But it seems like the instruction that I am used to would have better fitted those of various levels.
Anyway, I had resigned myself to just accepting that Charlie, at least, had done yoga before and likely knew it, but just wasn't a very informative instructor.
Then, he asked us to participate in an "exercise in joy." He didn't explain it really, but sat crossed legged and laughed very, very loudly. We all laughed too. I was laughing at him honestly. It was kind of uncomfortable but it did loosen me up. (plus making weird noises is also a part of yoga sometimes, so even though it was odd and he was loud and it was surprising coming from he who had been so soft spoken and quit for the past 45 minutes, it was also comforting.)
Since were sitting and relaxing, I thought we were winding down, but instead we did some more complicated moves. It was like we went from novice to suddenly advanced. This time he tried to make it more clear there was an easier way at least. This was only one pose though.
Then when we finally went down into the final yoga position, Savasana, he didn't say anything to relax us at all or even tell us that is what we should be doing. Just told us to lie down.
Just told us to lie down while He pulled out his flute (one like I played in junior high) and started playing it.
...
Ok ok. The flute music WAS relaxing and was a relief after the drum music, but it was still a little odd...
So it turned out Charlie himself was kind of likable. The exercise in joy for some odd reason put me almost on his good side, but I'm still not sure how I feel about the experience or how much I actually benefited from it.
Maybe if I think of it as "Crazy Stretch Time with Charlie" instead of "yoga" I'll warm up to it more quickly. Or maybe I just need to accept that all instructors are different.
After all that one instructor used to sing to us.
And really, in the end, as long as I'm moving and doing something does it matter?
I don't know why I am so particular about my yoga or my instructors and it is a surprising revelation, but there it is.
I'm going to give Charlie another week. We'll see how it goes.
I'm not sure to whom he is referring as often Chris was the only male in the building let alone doing yoga in the room. There was one instructor in training that was male I guess...
Anyway. I didn't want to be unfair and I quickly moved on to thinking it was neat. I was excited to get to do yoga again. Chris and I had gone to beginner classes every Sunday for a couple of months last year. It was relaxing and nice and I noticed the resulting leanness in my body. The instructors were very helpful and often reminded you not only how to hold your body right, but gave examples of other, easier versions of the poses if you liked. There was a smooth rhythm to it, moving fluidly from one pose to the next and holding. A lot of emphasis was put on breathing properly, being in touch with your body, and pushing yourself gently to the next level, and the background music was relaxing.
Since I've started taking cycle class Friday mornings I was sooo looking forward to this.
I arrived a few minutes late, but the instructor was late too so I was fine.
The lights were dim. Our mats set. Our bare toes wiggling in the cool air. It felt good to be back in the yoga atmosphere.
Then in walked Charlie.
He looked like the type of guy that would laugh at others for doing yoga, not the type of guy that would be leading you in it. Not to mention his muscles were very bulky, not lean and flowly like yoga promised. I know all about books and covers and all that hoha, but sometimes a book's cover does tell the truth. Like the flashy, trashy romance novels. You know exactly what to expect.
Regardless, I kept my hopes up.
He put on yoga music, but it had a hard drum base. I tried, tried, tried not to think "I bet this guy doesn't know anything about yoga" but as we went through very simple moves, most of which were really just stretches more than they were actual "yoga poses" it's all I could think. He didn't correct anyone even though several people weren't holding themselves right and we moved quickly from each position to the next in a very unrelaxing manner.
I ground my teeth. I wasn't enjoying myself, but I tried to think positive thoughts. I was waiting for an official yoga phrase at the very least, but when one came it quickly wore off as we entered downward facing dog for the the third time without anyone telling you were to put the weight.
I knew I couldn't leave and I told myself I was being ridiculous. This was just different than what I was used to.
Then, as we bent down to touch our toes AGAIN (for like the tenth time, no kidding), I was filled with a new resolve. I was going to do all of these "yoga" poses perfectly. I was going to gracefully hold my body and stretch to the limit. I, the novice yoga enthusiast, was going to show these people what they should be doing.
Ridiculous I know.
As the hour progressed we stopped doing planks, lunges, and toe touches and finally started moving into tree poses. At least this was yoga. And then we did warrior.
I was happy to be doing yoga poses but recognized they were still very popular yoga poses. And it was hard to miss that even though the woman in front of me needed to have her arms adjusted, Charlie remained silent.
I guess the yoga lingo relaxed me at any rate and I finally felt the need to stop acting like a douche and remember that in the back of the room, in the dark, in a room full of other yoga novice, no body gave a damn if my chin was a perfect 45 degrees or not.
The second half hour was much more yogay than the first and I did feel a little bad about my previous attitude, but it still bothered me that he didn't give more detailed instructions. He eventually started showing a few versions of different poses, but he was hard to hear and I could tell a few people thought they were doing two different things.
I guess the biggest problem with Charlie was that he didn't give instructions or tell anyone how to adjust or work with their own bodies. He didn't even remind us breathe properly, though sometimes he would tell you to do a certain move on the exhale.
I couldn't figure out if it was him or just because it was a random drop in gym class. But it seems like the instruction that I am used to would have better fitted those of various levels.
Anyway, I had resigned myself to just accepting that Charlie, at least, had done yoga before and likely knew it, but just wasn't a very informative instructor.
Then, he asked us to participate in an "exercise in joy." He didn't explain it really, but sat crossed legged and laughed very, very loudly. We all laughed too. I was laughing at him honestly. It was kind of uncomfortable but it did loosen me up. (plus making weird noises is also a part of yoga sometimes, so even though it was odd and he was loud and it was surprising coming from he who had been so soft spoken and quit for the past 45 minutes, it was also comforting.)
Since were sitting and relaxing, I thought we were winding down, but instead we did some more complicated moves. It was like we went from novice to suddenly advanced. This time he tried to make it more clear there was an easier way at least. This was only one pose though.
Then when we finally went down into the final yoga position, Savasana, he didn't say anything to relax us at all or even tell us that is what we should be doing. Just told us to lie down.
Just told us to lie down while He pulled out his flute (one like I played in junior high) and started playing it.
...
Ok ok. The flute music WAS relaxing and was a relief after the drum music, but it was still a little odd...
So it turned out Charlie himself was kind of likable. The exercise in joy for some odd reason put me almost on his good side, but I'm still not sure how I feel about the experience or how much I actually benefited from it.
Maybe if I think of it as "Crazy Stretch Time with Charlie" instead of "yoga" I'll warm up to it more quickly. Or maybe I just need to accept that all instructors are different.
After all that one instructor used to sing to us.
And really, in the end, as long as I'm moving and doing something does it matter?
I don't know why I am so particular about my yoga or my instructors and it is a surprising revelation, but there it is.
I'm going to give Charlie another week. We'll see how it goes.
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