I should preface this week’s fashionably medical rant by
stating up front that I am not a bendy person. Yes, sure I’m pretty flexible
and can of course touch my toes. In a pinch, I can balance on one leg and do up
a strappy sandal. I have been known to “stretch it out” from time to time after
a long run or a very long bicycle ride when my ass is screaming and we are out
of pharmaceutical muscle relaxants.
But all of that aside- I am not bendy. This is my
politically correct code phrase for saying that I do indeed HATE Yoga. Now, I
realize hate is a strong word. Hate is reserved for political regimes that
oppress the freedoms of others such as I
hate dictatorships or I hate North
Korea- No offense really to my cyber sisters in North Korea- not that you
are able to read this but heads up- your government is a bit of a bully.
Hate is a word reserved for life threatening and soul
crushing diseases- such as I hate Cancer or Diabetes or Heart Disease. or I
hate my addiction to expensive footwear. (Heads up- I am learning to accept
this last ailment for what it is and to use it to my advantage).
Hate is best relegated to describe severe opinions of the
evil in the world around us. I hate Fox News (I’m a socialist, can’t help it) I
hate Dr. Oz- sorry girlfriends- he’s a hack who needs to be tempered once a for
all.
Then there is the hate for the trivial in our lives, such as
my hate towards stirrup pants and lipsticks that have gone bad- the ones that
leave a bad aftertaste and an undesirable smell. There is my hate for
telemarketers who call my cell and leave a recorded message telling me I’ve
been entered to win a cruise (I don’t even like cruises, but I don’t hate them). Worse still
there are the people who stand in airports on behalf of a credit card company and
harass me to enroll as I am running for my flight.
Hate like love has its levels. There’s the big bad serious
hate and the little annoyances. And then there is my hate for Yoga.
I should say that I really want to like Yoga. I live in
downtown Vancouver. Here, Yoga is a religion. Yoga is like the popular girl in high
school who has beautiful blond straight hair, gets good grades and is, I am
sure really nice. She’s a sweet sister and if I got to know her, I’m sure we’d
be friends. But on the surface- Yoga is bitch. There’s too much to learn and
not enough of a payback.
Let me explain.
I have been to one Yoga class in my life. This was some
years ago when I first moved here and yes, I caved to peer pressure and decided
to see what all the fuss was about. I wore my requisite LULULEMON pants and I
did not bring my own mat. As someone who feels flip flops should only be worn
at the pool/beach or in the shower- I wore running shoes to the studio, just in
case the class went terribly wrong and I had to high tail it out of there.
I arrived at the studio 20 minutes before my class. The woman took my particulars
and made me fill out a health questionnaire. On it I was asked about my past
medical history and any previous medications. I like a true know it all left the
sheet blank. I put the name and number for my IN CASE OF EMERGENCY contact,
should my downward dog result in a syncopal (fainting) episode and I asked to
borrow a mat.
The woman offered me a cup of Jasmine Green Matcha something
with orchids and lavender for calm,
handed me a purple mat in exchange for a $5 rental fee and showed me to my
class.
The room was dim and it smelled like an arm pit. No, not the
lovely smelling armpits that are smothered in garden fresh or apple flavoured
deodorant. The room smelled like a bad body crevasse. It was the kind of smell
where you get a whiff and think “who mixed urine and ammonia together and let
it sit for a while?” There was some weird music playing, to get us in the mood. Newsflash- I was there for
a good stretch- and a sweat. Firstly if I was in the mood- it would not be for
some Sun-Moon Frey bullshit tunes and secondly- I was NOT in the mood.
I picked a space on the floor and decided that eventually
like the monkey enclosure phenomemon if I stayed in here long enough- I’d get
used to the smell. DO remember the monkey enclosure at the zoo? I do. We went
there every Sunday and sure enough within seconds of opening the door to the
monkey enclosure the smell hits you. Nothing smells quite so as a pissed off
set of monkeys living together, urinating on each other in close proximity. But
sure enough within several minutes in the monkey enclosure, I forgot about the
smell and focused on the lemurs and chimps at hand.
Twenty minutes into my yoga class and I was full on into the
monkey cage phenomenon. I could not even tell you that my matt smelled like
ass- I was far to focused on getting my sun salutations down pat.
Turns out my biggest problems with yoga rest in the
following issues:
1.
I am terrible at following orders in a work out
class. As someone who came late in life to fitness- I like my independence. I
know the yoga teacher is trying to be of service but Greta (my yoga teacher)
was just too bossy. Bitch also had it in for me. My bends were never low enough
and my downward dog was downright bad. Something about the hip placement.
30 minutes into the class and I
was stressed out about the next move.
2.
I don’t like chat during stretching. Give me
some wicked music and I am all there. Let’s do that. Let’s hold a class where
we play rock and roll and stretch it out. We will call it ANGRY Yoga. It will
be for men and women with rage issues and it will take the hath community by
storm.
3.
The whole thing is just not my scene. I’m a
runner, I’m a cyclist. I’m not a stretcher.
So when a recent study presented at the American Society of
Hypertension showed that Hath Yoga in deed lowered blood pressure in patients ,
I decided my trash talk need to be tempered.
In
an attempt to address the benefits of yoga a little more scientifically, the
researchers based out of Philadelphia, conducted a randomized clinical trial,
with 120 subjects randomized to one of three treatment groups. The three arms
included hatha yoga two to three times per week for 24 weeks, a supervised
diet/weight-reduction program that included walking, and a combination program
that included some yoga and the dietary intervention. The patients were 50
years of age, on average, and had a baseline systolic blood pressure of 134 mm Hg.
Presenting
the results of 58 subjects who have completed the study to date, the
researchers report that the yoga program significantly reduced systolic blood
pressure to 129 mm Hg at 12 weeks and 130 mm Hg at 24 weeks. Diastolic blood
pressure was also significantly reduced 2 to 3 mm Hg, as well. In the
diet/walking and yoga/dietary intervention groups, there was no significant
reduction in blood pressure from baseline.
The
most profound thing about the study is that it is not a drug effect and
although it is not a huge effect- it is still significant. The results show
that these Hatha classes reduce blood pressure by 3-6mmHg. So perhaps a good
stretch is not off the table after all.
AS
for my first brush with Hatha Yoga? I left early. I spent 30 minutes trying it
out a realized it just want not my thing. Don’t judge my girlfriends- we all
have out own path in life. I ride and I run like a crazy person and keep my blood
pressure down. Some of you attend the Hath class down the corner ( and if you
do- bring your own matt) and it turns out your getting some benefit.
That’s
the beauty of us my dear girlfriends. From Closed toed pumps to an open toe
Dorsay- we all can find our own path in life. Keep moving and keep bending and
heads up my sisters- stop once in a while, a remember to give it a good
stretch.