Having decided that I needed to work at getting in better shape, and improve my shooting breathing, I signed up for a yoga class. I chose the late morning, week day class, figuring it wouldn't have a bunch of svelte young things. Not that I mind much, but knowing diddly squat about yoga I figured it would be less of a strain to keep up with those my own age.
First class, I didn't have a mat, so had to borrow one from the instructor. How in the heck can they call that a mat, it was so thin, either a very large heavy woman had used it before me, or torture is part of the program. After class, having crawled back to my SUV, I sped down to the thrift store. "Do you have any yoga mats?" "I have one in back, follow me." She pulled out this purple (not my favorite color) cushy mat with an Empowered logo, looked at it and looked at me in my yoga shorts, aviator sunglasses, and cowboy boots...sighed and said, "how does $1.50 sound". Sold.
Next class was the same older group. It was comforting to know that being left handed has nothing to do with being right/left challenged. We were told to put our legs out straight and put the yoga block on top of our legs, while holding our feet just barely off the floor... and hold... and hold... and then the queen of torture laughs and tells us to breathe. Holy Mother of God.
After a short rest/nap, she has us do a bunch of warrior poses. I can do this, easy peasy, while I was at it I figured I could practice a few ccw draws. Torture queen just sighed, obviously not her first rodeo.
Next class was full of younger women who should have been in school or working. Hardcore, and did not appreciate our ability to bust out laughing when someone fell over, got a yoga block thrown at them, or got stuck in a pose. Namaste chicas!