I’ve been practicing yoga on and off in the last three years (admittedly, more off than on). I’ve been to 6 different studios and maybe a dozen or so instructors. I’ve done Hatha yoga, Bikram yoga, prenatal yoga, post-natal yoga and even a 10-day yoga seminar.
With all this practise, one would have thought that I would be all lithe and limber by now. That's not the case though. Far from it. As I found out at class today, I don't even know how to breathe. I suck in air too fast and exhale too noisily, emitting the sound from my throat rather than my nose. While I do manage to get my fingertips and toes to meet without bending my knees, I huff and puff through the series of sun salutations. I shake like a reed during the shoulder stand. And when the instructor announces the child's pose, I crawl into the pose and weep like a baby.
If there's one thing I'm moderately good at it's doing a lying down spinal twist. The pose requires you to intertwine your legs, raise them to your chest and then twist to one side, while the shoulders twist in the other direction.
My spine sets off the loudest cracking sounds that echo around the studio. A feeling of indescribable bliss courses through my sore body after that crack. I endure the class for this moment. It's like a drug (not unlike that other less salubrious yet addictive 'crack').
Today, I discovered that I could intertwine my legs without assistance from the instructor. I turned to one side and CRACK!
Aha, said the instructor.
Aaaaaahhhh, I replied.