Greg has been taking yoga classes at work for several months now. I’ve always wanted to try yoga, so when I learned that a co-worker of mine teaches classes, I took it as a sign. I attended my first yoga class last week, and I went again last night. This time, Greg wanted to come along. We rolled out our yoga mats in front of the mirror and class began.
As soon as we stretched into our first downward dog I remembered that Greg has a broken thumb. I don’t know how I had forgotten, given the metal brace he’s wearing. The downward dog pose requires that you put most of your weight on your hands. Greg awkwardly balanced his weight on his right hand. I could see his face turning tomato colored, his forehead wrinkled in distress.
I knew the yoga class Greg normally took was slow-paced, whereas this would be quick — and with many, many stretches involving the hands.
Greg survived, and afterward I asked him how it compared to his other class.
“Well, in our other class we hold the poses longer,” Greg said.
“Yeah, I figured that,” I said.
“And this class had a lot more downward dogs,” he said.
“Yeah, I know,” I said. “I figured that out from all your grunting and groaning.”
“What are you talking about?” Greg said, sounding stunned.
“After the first twenty minutes of class, I started hearing you making all these groaning sounds as you tried to do the poses. It was pretty distracting.”
“There wasn’t any grunting and groaning,” Greg said. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
It must have been my imagination. Surely a black belt in tae kwon do wouldn’t be groaning over a silly little yoga class.