experiment: yoga

I'm good at sports. Doesn't matter if I've never played the game before, I pick it up instantly, adroitly. Football, bocce, swimming, competitive eating, whatever. Soccer's my true love, but I can do it all. I'm like a modern day Bo Jackson.

So yoga? Not even worried. Bo Knows Yoga.

Being the cocky athlete that I profess to be, and when faced with 900+ netflix titles that included the keyword "yoga," I took a brief skim before settling on Rodney Yee's Intermediate Yoga. I can't be bothered with any "beginner" business. Don't insult me. I can come in and compete on a more intense level. Maybe you don't think of yoga as a competitive sport, but maybe yoga just hasn't had the right grade of competitor. EH? EH?

So even though I'm 10 years late to the yoga game (and ignoring the advice of more wizened exercisers) I put on my running tights and sports bra and showed those hamstrings who's boss.

Trying to ignore the soft, meditative gobbledygook (which I suppose is useful to some, lesser yogathletes), I followed his poses without breaking a sweat. Mountain pose, warrior 1, triangle pose, upward dog, downward dog, camel, warrior 3, inverted triangle. They all sounded more fierce than they were. They also kind of sounded like VanDamme movies. Section one, I own you.

Section Two.

Oh you terrible, terrible section two. You evil inverted poses, you headstands, you twisty backbends. You've worked your Eastern mysticism on me and have hypnotized my forearms and hamstrings to work against me.

what i have learned:

my hamstrings are boss.