Yoga Day Two

Yoga Day Two: The Irish Woman's a Goner...

...is the name of the yoga posture where you lie on your belly and attempt to lift your feet in the air, to be grabbed by your arms reaching backwards, and then the entire body is raised towards the the ceiling while only the hip bones remain glued to your mat. "Owwww," says Flexible Beth, the only Irish woman in the room. "Beth, your quads need more flexibility," says Loose Leaf. She doesn't need to say a word to Plotnik, who can get his ankles off the mat but not much else.

When Loose Leaf, Yoga Sensei, does this posture, she looks, well...unworldly. Her body flexes in places where you're not supposed to flex, plus she's got to be really strong. Everything is moving up as she pivots by one hip bone, or maybe she's just flat out flying.

The Great Ducknik has her Spanish class on Tuesday mornings, so she is A.W.O.L. at yoga class today. It's just The Great Plotnik and Flexible Beth taking their places on their mats, eyes facing the bay window that overlooks Clement Street. As Loose Leaf puts he and Beth through their opening salutations, in a pleasing atmosphere of calm and cameraderie, Plot stares absently at cars passing trucks and cabs passing cars, and people walking in bright sweaters, and maybe somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright, the band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light, and somewhere men are laughing, and little children shout; but there is no joy in Mudville — mighty Plottie's shoulders are on fire.

"You should not be a flat saucer, you're a tall teacup," says Loose Leaf, referring to raising the hips, but both Plottie and Beth let loose a chuckle because they knew Loose Leaf when she was just a fine writer, before becoming a yoga professional, and that was such a writer-ly thing to say.

"Right," says Plotnik, as Loose Leaf adjusts his shoulders and runs her hand down his spine. He really loves that part, and understands how novitiates can initiate crushes on their instructors, except for all the pain involved, even on a day when the master has clearly realized she has to take it a little easier on her small flock.

Like the lunges -- yesterday they were attempted, in vain, stepping forwards from the downward dog, but the lunge ended in the middle -- The Aborted Lunge, or The Weasel in Quicksand.

Today all we have to do is put our hands on the mat and then step backwards. It's easier to get into the pose, but not as easy to hold it, as Loose Leaf straightens Plotnik's rear leg, makes sure the front leg is parallel, pushes back to make it strech further, then moves to do the same thing to Beth.

"Sometimes yoga teachers like their students to hold this pose for up to five minutes," says Loose Leaf, which elicits a derisive "pppeh" from both Plot and Beth. From what Plotnik understands from others about most yoga classes, you don't usually get to say "pppeh" to your yoga teacher. He likes it this way a lot more.

The clocks -- like clockwork, off they go, whenever they feel like it, but today when the big one strikes eleven times it really is eleven o'clock and the class is over. It was easier today, a little more standing in one spot, a lot less lunging, somewhat less contorting, approximately the same amount of twisting, a little more balancing, just as much grinding, not quite as much grimacing, an equal amount of burning but perhaps the same amount of whining.

When Plot had considered doing yoga at home, he hadn't realized what a silly idea that is. You need a teacher. When Loose Leaf tells Plot and Beth what to do, they do it, or at least they think they do it, which is to say they twist their bodies just about as far as they can in this current posture, but stop when the pain starts, and then Loose Leaf says "Do you feel your _____ stretching?", but the answer is usually "not really." "Oh, no?" she says and then comes over and pulls this part this way and that part that way and that makes these two parts tense up and those two parts scream in horror and then she says: "How about now?" and the answer is "Christ."

And then there are the surprises -- like this morning, when Plot arose from bed to go get the newspaper, he discovered a series of new muscles on the outsides of both hips and a new crick on the left side of his neck and a funny little bounce to his step, as he looked forward to doing it all again.