Life Change: from the gridiron game to the yoga mat

 One day you're a kid on the playground and your buddies (or teachers) tell you to act your age, and the next minute 50 is around the corner and you're feeling your age. With karate classes and increased time at the drum set muscles occasionally nag, tweak and spasm without so much as a 'by your leave'. Back in the day a good old fashioned deep tissue massage did the trick but now--not entirely.

Thus, I sat down at my kitchen table and embarked on a one man think tank. After 6 seconds I uttered a curse, but that didn't help. Then I remembered that 'ah ha' it had been quite some time since I rolled out the old yoga mat. Thankfully there's no judging in yoga for if I were to practice it in front of a yogi tribunal they'd say:

"Hmm, well first of all not bad for your first day."

"Actually I've been doing it off and on for years my esteemed yogis," I'd respond.

"Oh dear, have you considered other activities? And remember we ask from a place of peace and love."

And so it would go. Luckily I've not been summoned by the yogi tribunal. In the past yoga always made me feel good (when done with any regularity). And there it was, I immediately put myself on a 1 hour per day 30 day yoga challenge. Although there is no 'challenge' in yoga with the exception of challenging frigging poses. Done: one man think tank meeting adjourned.

I've always done my yoga at home. Pop in the DVD and rock n roll. I knocked out 17 days straight without a hitch other than one stubborn hamstring that is not a fan of the activity. On the 18th day I was to head to Vancouver. My trips to Vancouver tend to be the low key hang with family and friends coupled with very little exercise--we're talking vay-cay which is hipster for; vacation folks.

Part of the trip would be spent in Surrey, B.C. so I hopped online and found a studio near my lodgings. (yes I said lodgings, so what). The amazing studio (Vayusha www.vayushayoga.com)
 replied to my inquiry by email and text. Ha! They had me at customer service which is a luxury rapidly heading into extinction.

I arrived at the studio early knowing there'd be a waiver to sign plus a guy needs to find just the right corner, locker or cubbyhole to stash his shoes and socks. What is a cubby anyway?

The place was jammed with happy yoga-clad ladies…and me, the 200 lbs. nervous brother who's crappy at yoga. Again, thank god there's no judging in yoga. 'I can do this,' I tell myself. I used to play football. I used to come up so hard and fast on a guy that when I hit him he'd cough up the ball. Although, win or lose something always hurt by the final whistle. But this was yoga with a lot of women in Lulu Lemon gear. What could hurt other than foolish pride. And why is it that pride is always foolish? Why can't it be genius pride? That's it, I decided right then and there to take back the genius pride streets. My pride was going to be genius, moving forward. Unless, of course I fell ass over tea kettle during the class in an attempt at an unnecessary balance pose.

After the quick introduction to Candi who I believe is the owner I was thrown an unexpected yet happy curve ball. It went like this.

"Do you know what Jonathan there's no charge for you today. Just enjoy the class."

Well how do you like them yogi apples? I thought. Clearly my pathetic lost puppy dog look (which would later meld into several downward dogs) moved Candi to waive the usual drop in fee. No wonder everybody smiles so much around this joint. They're flexible, they breathe better than the average bear and sometimes stuff is..free. I like this world, sign me up!

I grabbed a yoga mat and hefted it to a position as far back and away from the instructor as possible. As I said earlier I'd never done a class before; just videos. Don't forget I had genius pride to protect. I posted up beside an emergency exit. Clearly that door was meant for me. The first thing the instructor did was thank us for coming. "Especially while Canada is playing in the hockey semi final. 'Sh**' I mumbled to myself. I'd forgotten about the game. My eyes flash to the emergency exit. In fact it called to me like a devil on my shoulder.

"Come on pal, push this tiny lever and in ten minutes your feet will be up on a couch watching Canada's favorite sport."

"No," I tell the devil-door.

"Technically you're on vay-cay so you could have a beer while watching the game," the door mocked. If not for the fact that my shoes and socks were in a cubbyhole I may have done a shoulder roll out the door. (Incidentally shouldn't a cubbyhole be called a 'shoe and socky-hole?' Wait a minute socky rhymes with hockey. NOOOOOO!)

But I fought temptation and stayed for the class. We began with breathing and light stretches. No sweat, I got this. I'm in the zone. We slowly got deeper into the poses and deeper into ah, er, yoga I suppose. I was heating up whilst keeping up. Pride: still genius. There were even times when light laughter broke out. Good heavens these women were getting fit and laughing. No wonder all of the smiling. Being the only dude (and brother) I felt like a fly on the wall…or perhaps fly on the yoga mat. This was like infiltrating a hen party or a bachelorette party or even more accurately a book club. I was on the inside. I was the inside man in all of my 200 lbs shoeless glory.

60 minutes later we were done. I'd managed every pose although my crow pose was extremely brief. And there were even a few ladies that managed the side crow. Allow me to paint a picture for those not familiar with the side crow. Basically your face is 10 inches from the matt and you're balancing on your hands. Your legs jut out to the side. One of your thighs/knees rests on one of your elbows. Looking at you head-on you'd look like a big rig truck that is in the middle of jack knifing. In fact, if I ever teach a yoga class for dudes; both tough guys and former tough guys it would go as follows:

"Okay dummies move into jack knife big rig. Breathe dummies. Your breathing is your air brakes. Hold the pose! If you don't that 18 wheeler is going through the guard rail and you won't make your delivery! Come on guys we're rigs! We're big rigs with heavy duty super charged engines dammit! Hold the pose!"

side crow baby!

Bottom line is Vayusha Yoga is a great facility with an excellent class. The studio is clean and warm with big windows that allow plenty of natural light. I'll definitely be going back next time I'm up that way. I managed to make 27 out of 30 days of my yoga challenge which was hatched by my one man think tank at my kitchen table. I don't believe I failed in achieving my goal as there is no judging in yoga. And where I once donned the football helmet I now roll out the yoga mat. Because it's all about body awareness and ahem, acting one's age.

**Getting back to the issue of cubbyholes. Wikipedia claims that a cubbyhole is a small safe place for children to play. Wikipedia also claims that the origin possibly stems from the old english word 'cub' meaning; pen, stall, coop etc. 

I thank wikipedia for their effort however they have it wrong. Cubbyhole comes from a little den in the ground where animals such as foxes keep their cubs. Today we have cubbyholes which are small or 'cubby like.' Hence; cubbyhole. My theory which is ironclad arose from my one man think tank at my kitchen table and cannot…be disputed. Now get out there and yogafy people!