I recently started a yoga class that should be described in the brochure as “death by planks.” The instructor initiates each class session with the statement:
“My goal is to make you all sore tomorrow. And I love planks.” Followed by a long, cackling laugh.
A plank, if you’re not familiar, is essentially the “up” position of a push-up – arms and toes extended against the floor, back straight, pain searing through the abs. Most instructors consider the plank to be a strenuous pose to hold for 30 seconds and then release. This instructor considers it a resting pose.
“Now come back to plank for a few resting breaths,” she’ll say. Or, “Rest in plank position for a moment while I change the music…. Hmmm. Where is that song?” (Long, cackling laugh.)
I did well for the first set of plank exercises. I was “pressing strong against the floor.” I was “feeling the heat rise within my center.” I was “toe tapping” and “stretching my intercostals” and “maintaining my shoulder position.”
By the second set I lost all will to continue and collapsed into face plant position.
“Remember to do what is comfortable for your body,” the instructor continued. “You can drop down one arm and thread the needle if you’d like a deeper pose…”
A deeper pose?
By the time we got to side planks, I had modified my pose to the twitching log. Across the room I saw another participant curled in the fetal position. This gave me hope. I was pretty sure the class would end only when we were all collapsed on our mats. I tried not to look at the lady across from me who was still soaring like a carnivorous bird on a magical updraft of hot yoga wind.
That is not normal.
Speaking of carnivorous birds, as a break from planks we entered into the eagle pose, which the instructor described like this:
“Stand on your right leg and wrap your left leg around your right leg about three times. Now slide your right arm under your left elbow and intertwine—“
At which point I went into the toppling tree pose. I also learned yelling “Timber!” in the middle of yoga class is not appropriate.
The peace and the light within me greets joyfully the peace and the light in you. It does not topple with a death crash onto the floor. Ever.
We continued with the chair pose, which makes me understand why chairs were invented. And the hoverboard position, which requires you to somehow scrunch up your abs enough to levitate your entire body off the mat. I can tell you there was lots of scrunching but very little levitating on my mat.
“Notice how your breathing may have changed,” the instructor said.
Yes, my breathing had changed. I think it had stopped altogether.
“Try to return to the same gentle flow you had at the beginning of class…”
Right. I returned to a modification of the twitching, gasping log pose.
“There is so much more we could do, but I’m sorry our hour has come to a close,” the instructor finally said.
There were general sighs of relief and one chirpy voice that suggested a two hour class sometime. “Wouldn’t that be fun?”
I hope my grimace looked like a smile.
I slowly rolled my mat and hobbled toward the door. I am so into this yoga thing.
What’s your new thing for 2017?
See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the desert and streams in the wasteland (Isaiah 43:19).