Thirtysomething

Oh, That's Why They Call It "Power"

So it's been 3 days since my first-ever power yoga class and my ass still hurts. Signs of a good class. I had always shyed away from power yoga. The word "power" and "yoga" didn't go together well for me. Also the class was taught by a dude who wore a microphone headset. Also unsettling.

I had promised that I would try a class right after the new year. One thing after another kept coming up and I never made it to a class until Saturday morning. As I put my mat down, I overheard the other ladies in the class saying that microphone headset dude was no longer teaching the class. It was fate.

I couldn't be more in love with this new yoga instructor. She's so hippy-dippy and the perfect yoga instructor. She's round with long, long hair that she wears in a braid and she wears long, dangly, Native American-inspired earrings. She talks about being one with the earth and wind and loving yourself and all that shit. I love her!

So I knew all the poses, you just do them at a much faster rate in power yoga. I definitely worked up a sweat, but didn't think the class was particularly difficult. Until about Saturday night when my legs started to ache. By Sunday morning my thighs, ass and biceps were screaming for mercy. But in a good way. Turns out that class kicked my ass. I'm going back every week.

Wednesday nights there's another power yoga class but it's taught by some dude. I'm going to check it out, but if he's wearing a headset, I'm leaving.

posted by DJ Heavy D @ 12:26 PM