Sweat dripped from my forehead onto the floor. My entire body clenched, fighting to rise up. I wasn’t lifting weights; I was trying yoga for the first time.
For years I scoffed at yoga culture. I perceived the practice as a faux sport for 21 st century hippies in Subaru Outbacks and Tevas. A yoga mat was the same as a “Legalize It” picket sign in my mind.
My preconceived notions going into my first yoga class could not have been more wrong. I thought I had signed up for an hour of overly celebrated stretching on a thin mat. What I got was a workout comparable to training I went through playing high school football.
The poses worked my core in a way I had never experienced, and I found myself struggling to keep my breath at the proper rhythm. I fell down more than once. I struggled. I was tired at the end of the class, something I had not expected.
I shouldn’t have been so surprised. Most Major League Baseball teams now utilize yoga, and the Seattle Seahawks made headlines two years ago for employing it in their daily practice schedule (they’ve done pretty well since then). As a sports fan I should have known better than to typecast the entire discipline of yoga as fodder for granola heads.
I plan on going back to yoga class every week. It’s a challenge now, just like any other workout, and the stereotypes surrounding it are irrelevant.
