My back curves and my head dips and I’m hoping to god I don’t resemble some ungainly slumped ape-beast. But when I try to straighten my back to sit tall my already twitching thighs start burning and creeping away from the ground which is annoyingly where I want them to go. I’ve never really got the hang of sitting crossed-legged, even with having done yoga a few times a week for three whole months. I guess my leg muscles are probably too hard/big/thick for it. Genetics. Dad couldn’t tell you what a deadlift was and he had legs like an oil rig. But consistency is key. Give it a few more months and I’ll be bendy and limber and strong and calm. 

Like bamboo. 

In a few more months I’ll be just like bamboo. 

More people are coming into the studio. I hope I don’t look as slumped and ape-ish as I feel. I recognise a few regular faces now though I don’t know any names, just the names I’ve given them. There’s Bendy Brenda (suspected retired gymnast), Lucazade (guzzles whole 380ml bottle per session), Hot-Pink (always wears full hot-pink outfit which in my opinion feels a bit loud for yoga), Grunter (self explanatory) as well as others. 

Oh and there’s Ted. We nod a little dude-nod at each other as he passes by. He introduced himself a few weeks ago, presumably under the uniting premise of ‘the only guys in the yoga class’. Seems like a nice fella. Shorts a bit on the short side though. 

A few folks roll out their own mats and a few take the gym-owned mats that are hanging from a rack on the wall – gross stinky gym mats with no interesting designs on them. I look down at my mat; it has a tribal design in the centre; a simple sitting figure with beams of sunlight coming out of their head. 

So cool.

So chill. 

Will it help me be better at yoga? 

Hmm, maybe! Maybe if I imagine beams of sunlight are coming out of my head. Maybe the design is actually a coded ancient hack to help you unlock access to a profound yogic headspace. I wouldn’t be surprised. Yoga is all ancient and mysterious after all. 

A smiley older lady lays their stinky uncool gym-mat next to mine and I can’t help but notice how ungrippy the worn fabric looks. I’ve never actually used one but it sure looks ungrippy. Just think of all of the communal sweat absorbed into the fibres. No thanks. My cool and chill mat has only known my sweat and not even that much of it to be honest because my cardio is pretty decent. I can’t remember my 5k PB but must make a point of committing it to memory. It’s definitely twenty-something. 

There’s the instructor. They’re so skinny and chill. Forearm tendons like a twisted jungle vine. I wonder if they know the ol’ beams-of-sunlight trick too. They probably feel like they’ve got perpetual sun beams shooting out of their head. They roll out their mat in one smooth push – looks like it’s got a decent weight to it and has ornate gold patterns around the edges. Classy. I bet it’s expensive and very grippy. I bet it smells like sage.

Okay, come on now – concentrate on what he’s saying. Find stillness. Let your breath be slow and even. Let your thoughts come, be observed and then let them pass by without attachment. No attachment, okay. I can do that. 

My eyes are closed and I’m letting my thoughts go passing by. 

Passing by. 

I’m breathing softly through my nose just, observing my thoughts and being present in the moment…My nose breathing feels…a bit loud? 

Is it loud compared to everyone else’s nose breathing? 

Or is it just loud to me because my nose is the closest nose to my ears? 

I’ll hold my breath and see if I can hear anyone else’s nose sounds…

Hmm, not really. Except that lady in the corner who definitely has a cold. Another reason not to touch those mats. Gross.

Okay, try breathing softer. And now slower. Feel your chest gently rise and fall. Rise and fall. That’s good. 

Rise and fall. 

Rise and fall. 

Jeez, my new vest feels crispy. 

Rise and fall. 

It’s kinda chafing my nipples actually. 

Rise and…Oh god, what if they’re visible through my vest? I need to check but what if I’m caught checking? They’ll think I can’t meditate for just a few minutes without looking at myself. 

But what if I look like a hard-nippled slumped-over ape-beast right now? That’s not a good look. That’s not chill! I need to know. 

I pop my left eye open and peek at myself in the floor-to-ceiling dance mirrors that line the wall. Posture isn’t great but thankfully nipples are concealed. Phew. 

Not that there’s anything wrong with my nipples. They’re fine. I just don’t want them out while I’m doing yoga thanks. 

I’m bamboo, remember. Bendy, limber, strong and calm. Bamboo doesn’t worry about nipples. 

Oh, the meditation part is over. Definitely aced that.

I’m standing up, our Asana about to begin. I’ve got Surya Namaskar B committed to memory now thanks to the three months of mostly consistent attendance and a bookmarked YouTube video. We always seem to start with that sequence and then the challenging bendy stuff comes later. I hope we try the leg-behind-the-head pose again. I’ve been practising it at home and I swear I’m so close, even with my hard/big/thick legs. People would never expect that I could do that and be like “wow Strong Legs over here is bendy, limber, strong AND calm. That’s so impressive and cool that he’s a guy who is comfy with doing yoga in a public class.” He he he, nice. Oh we’ve started the Asana. 

I’m breathing smoothly through my nose while moving through the postures. 

Samasthiti, Urdhva Hastasana…

My nose is maybe 40% louder than I’d like but don’t think about that – focus on the quality of your movement. 

It’s not a competition. Go softly. 

Uttanasana, Ardha Uttanasana…

Softly. 

Chaturanga Dandasana…

Imagine it’s a Soft Movement Tournament and you’re gunning for first place. Currently you’re in second place and the guy just ahead of you is moving super softly so you really dial it in and take your softness of movement to the next level. Hell yeah, that’s soft! The crowd goes wild!

I’m softly reaching toward the ground and placing my hands flat, a little bend in the knees to help me get there and yep – it’s just as I’d thought.

This loose vest reveals my nipples when I lean forward. 

Great. 

Quick look around to see if anyone caught a glimpse. I see you looking, Lucazade. Thirsty for more than just electrolyte-replacement sports drinks, eh? You just keep your mind on your own Asanas, you dirty downward dog.

Come on! Stop thinking about Lucazade or your nipples or just how much grunting is coming from Grunter and focus. Up next is Warrior pose and we like Warrior pose. 

We like it because Skinny Chill Teacher told us before that the pose is supposed to represent some yoga god with a sword in each hand but our arms represent the blades. How sick is that? 

My blades are up in Warrior A, pointing to the ceiling.

And now they come down for Warrior B; one blade pointing forward and one pointing back. Nice. Hold the position now. 

I am a warrior. My arms are the blades. 

My arms are the blades. Long and steel and pointy. 

I’m like Wolverine. So cool.

Though, I guess these imaginary blades aren’t retractable like Wolverine’s; they are just normal blades. 

So not really like Wolverine. 

I guess similar in the sense that both figures are very blade-centric.

Maybe there’s a better blade-focused hero to align myself with right now. 

Blade is the obvious one. 

Honestly though, I’m unsure if he even qualifies as a superhero. Like, I think he could heal himself and was fast but wasn’t that due to being a vampire? That doesn’t count in my mind. Also didn’t Wesley Snipes get done for tax evasion? Oh shit, everyone’s moved on and I’m still standing here with my blades out!

I scramble to catch up. Everyone’s holding downdog now. I get myself into the position, my hanging head looking behind me through the gap between my legs. 

Oh look, I can see Ted. Nice downdog, Ted! Short shorts aside, he seems like a nice guy. I should see if he fancies a coffee sometime. 

I hear the teacher say “Good job, Ted.” 

Screw you, Ted. Your downdog isn’t better than mine and I don’t want to drink coffee with you and your tiny shorts. 

Deep slow breaths now. You don’t need the affirmation.

Bendy, limber, strong and calm. Bamboo.

Okay, nice – we’re laying on our backs now warming up for a bit of leg-behind-the-head pose. That thirty mins of home practice has come in clutch. Remember the sunbeams. Sunbeams are shining out of my head, calm and centred and chill, just like the little man on my mat. 

I flex one leg and pull my foot towards my head. It’s a deep stretch – it borders pain – but it’s all good. I can manage it. My foot is just a few inches away from my head. Actually imagine the minds you’d blow if you could just pop your leg behind your head. No one would see that one coming. 

Remember what the teacher says – “pain is your body’s way of saying hey I’m not quite ready for this position”. 

Listen to your body. It’s good to recognise your limits. 

But, also – pain is weakness leaving the body, isn’t it? I’m sure I read that. Or heard it on a podcast. Or maybe it was a poster. It’s definitely a thing and things usually stem from a scientific basis.

So I imagine my Weakness Gauge, the needle bouncing around its upper end and whenever I push my leg closer to my head and the pain flares up the needle drops slightly. Oh yeah – that’s the weakness coming out alright. 

It hurts pretty bad but it feels good to get closer and to imagine squeezing the weakness out of me like a lemon filled with citrusy weakness, hnngg.

Oh my god, my foot is really close to getting behind my head. Like, centimetres. I hadn’t even noticed I was too busy imagining all my weakness lemon juice. 

I think I can do this. 

My thigh is burning so bad at this point and my hip feels stretched to a point I’ve never felt before. I feel sweat beading on my forehead and I hold back the urge to grunt through the pain. Grunting is for Grunter. I can do this. 

I push further.

My whole body is vibrating as pain shoots through my core. I feel my heel touch the top of my head. One more push down and my foot will be behind my head. I’ll actually have my foot behind my head, like a proper yoga person! I can’t stop now. Won’t stop now. Shut up, Body, you’ll do as you’re told! Hnnggg screw you, Ted!

Oh okay yep that’s a lot of pain alright. Hoowee! So long as my face doesn’t show it then it’s fine and no one will know. You’re nearly there. You’re nearly bamboo. Don’t pass out. Hnnnnggg.

…

It’s there. 

Holy shit – my foot is actually behind my head. That’s my ankle I can feel pushing into the back of my skull! What an insane thing to feel! I can’t believe it!

This would be incredible if I wasn’t awash with such agony! I literally can’t believe how much pain I’m in. The weakness must be tsunami-ing out of me now, surely. 

I can feel something in my hamstring start to go. Something in my thigh pops. That can’t be good. Abort! Abort!

Can’t abort. 

Leg stuck. 

Oh crap oh crap oh crap oh crap what do I do?

Through the tears I can just make out Skinny Chill Teacher pointing at me. 

Wow, everyone – have a look at Dale here. He’s only been practising with us for a few months and already has achieved Eka Pada Sorsasana. Well done, Dale.

I hear him say the words and on one hand I’ve never felt so validated but on the other hand the world is starting to go blurry and vibrate. That can’t be good.

It occurs to me now that I can’t feel either of my legs and the pain is crystallizingly immense. I’m pretty certain at this point I’m going to pass out. The rest of the class are looking at me though. Their faces are impressed. Yes. I did it. Ted looks horrified. Jealous. Ha.

Wait, don’t people sometimes pee themselves when they pass out?

Uh oh, vision darkening. Circling the drain. 

I hope I don’t pee myself in front of everyone.

On my nice grippy mat.

That wouldn’t be chill. 

Bamboo wouldn’t pee itself. 

Still, I did it. 

I actually did it.

I’m bendy, limber, strong and…

I think the most widely known piece of writing advice is “write what you know”. Well this wee story just poured out of me because – it is what I know. I’ve been into yoga classes for a few years now so just about every problematic thought laid out here is something that has more or less crossed my mind at some point. Coming from a family that’s fiercely competitive, especially around anything remotely athletic, has embedded an unhelpful default belief in me that anything physical can and should be a competition. If a family event doesn’t involve some kind of tournament then it’s likely a funeral. This couldn’t be more antithetical to what I’ve come to understand as the ethos behind a yoga practice. So yoga for me has been as much about learning to relate to physicality in a totally different way as it has been learning postures. I also recently read my first George Saunders book – Tenth of December – and it was my absolute favourite blend of silly, sweet and thought-provoking with a ton of insight into how lovely and ungainly we are as a species. It left me inspired to write a piece that explored a flawed perspective. I guess there’s just something fundamentally human about being wrong and naive that we can all relate to on some level. Though for the record, I’m not remotely close to getting my leg behind my head. Maybe one day.