Moving into flexibility

I am so *not* an exercise person. I've spent a great deal of money joining gyms in January and have forgotten where they were located by March. I've never understood the allure of "working out" until your face is stoplight red, your (unfashionably baggy) tee shirt is soaked with sweat, your hair is plastered damply to your forehead, and your legs feel like overcooked noodles.

And then there's the whole body image thing... every time I'd go to the gym, I'd be the only chunky one in the room, surrounded by anorexic troll types in tight bicycle shorts and sports bras and tanned, firm abs, sweat bands holding back long curls that just look better when slightly damp. That's not motivating.

I've had treadmills and exercise bikes (great clothes racks), ab rollers (hard to decorate around), and even a tidy little package called the Isorobic, which I've actually used from time to time, although not enough to make much difference. I've got a dusty Richard Simmons in my DVD collection.

But I like yoga.

Actually, I started doing yoga about 10 years ago when I was at "that" stage in life where your body betrays you with dripping hot flashes at inopportune times and you don't sleep, at least well. I'd wake early, about 5 a.m. --always unusual for me -- and pop the yoga tape into the VCR, take off my nightie, and proceed to stretch and twist for about 45 minutes, although I never was able to bend so that my head touched my knees. Yes, nude.

My daughter even wrote a monologue about that for her theatre classes, which got me some pretty funny looks from the professors who'd occasionally direct plays I'd audition for.

I've used tapes off and on (mostly off) since then, but had taken only one real class, a few years ago, until May, when I found that our community center was offering classes twice a week. I've been going ever since.

Nobody cares what you wear or what's hiding under the baggy tee shirt. We're all trying to keep up with the instructor, to bend and twist and breathe. She tells us to do what our bodies will allow us to do, and not to strain muscles. The work is focused inward.

So we do the sun salutation to plank to cobra to downward dog and back again. We twist from half chair into warrior. We balance precariously into the tree pose, arms shaking to maintain the pose, the foot reaching for stability. My goal is to be able to hold that pose for longer than 3 seconds.

And it's working: I don't hurt when I get out of bed in the morning or rise from a chair after sitting for some time. I feel lighter, somehow, when I walk. Joints are more fluid. The meditative aspects of breathing in and out through the poses, feeling the muscles stretch fiber by fiber, are healing, a soothing balm in a busy day.

Sure, it's exercise. Sure, my face gets red and I get sweaty. But there is a deeper side to yoga, one which benefits the soul and the mind as well as the body. I never felt that lifting weights or pedaling a bike. I'm learning flexibility and balance as I move and breathe -- lessons which I can take into every part of life. Who knew?