Recently, I tried yoga for the very first time in my life. In Seattle, in addition to a lot of other "alternative" and homeopathic medical practices, yoga is extremely popular. There are almost as many yoga studios as there are coffee shops. A friend of mine goes regularly and invited me to join her. Considering that I see MOP twice a week and I work out aerobically at least 45 mins every day, I figured yoga would be cake. Not so much. As cool as it was to try something totally new at my age, it was extrodinarily humbling.

I placed myself in the front of the class so that I could see what the instructor was doing, at least that was the plan, until the studio got so full, I realized that he wasn't going to have room for a mat himself. I was going to have to rely mostly on watching those around me as well as my hearing - two strikes already against the rookie right off the bat.

The instructor started us off with a very loud "ooooommmmm." It should come as no surprise that I nearly lose my composure at this point - and only minutes into the class. I was very impressed with my ability to keep the laughter in - considering I couldn't even get the hang of the breathing part of yoga. During the entire class (all 2 hours) I could have sworn Darth Vadar had joined us in the back.

For the uninitiated, yoga (at least ashtonga yoga) class consists of attempting to do and hold a variety of poses. The instructor announces a pose and students just assume it. The instructor knew that I was a rank beginner, so initially, he stood in front of me to demonstrate what I was aiming for. I was actually feeling pretty good about myself until he started moving around and I had a chance to see what everybody else in the room was doing. The woman next to me could literally fold herself into a pretzel that could easily fit into an oven. There were people doing headstands right in the middle of the floor. I felt like I was in a Cirque de Soleil training camp.

Afterwards, I find out that this was an "advanced" yoga class. "DUH."