The journey to the mat

My yoga stride has eluded me ever since I moved and switched studios. It’s the same “chain”, but a different location and different teachers. In my old studio, there was the yoga bully. The man I openly hated, but secretly loved when he cranked up the Snoop Dogg and demanded just one. more. flow.

After five years of practice, the yoga bully gave me Vinyasa. And I loved it.

It had been a long road to it, though.

There was a kidney transplant, followed by months of recovery.

There was a yoga DVD — bought as a recovery gift — that I tried one day to fight the recovery blues.

There were stiff legs, tight muscles, and an off and on relationship with my at-home practice.

There was a bad break-up that took me back to the mat and off to a community college in an attempt to meet some new people. At the time, it had nothing to do with yoga. Really.

There was an addiction to that Saturday afternoon class that made me forget about meeting new people, forget about that boy who’d broken my heart, and made me look forward to something.

There was the discovery of the yoga high.

Then, there were gym classes and my first experience with a real teacher. Real in terms of intensity. Intensity in both physical and mental exertion.

And then finally, three years in, there was a studio. My first studio experience was not pleasant. A friend and I checked it out and the instructor was a complete turn off. A little too serious, a little too intense. The next studio was an improvement, but I still wasn’t sold. It wasn’t until my third try — with the yoga bully — that I finally found my home.

And then I moved. And while I could continue to go to my old studio, it’s a bit more convenient to go to the new one. Which means I must find “home” again.

Over the past couple months, I’ve tried a few instructors, but none have the teaching style that I crave. Until tonight. Sure, there wasn’t rap blasting in the background. But there was sweat. Dripping in puddles around me. There was release. Shown in the migraine that vanished with each stretch.

There was relief. That I’d finally found home again. That I’m not as out of practice as I thought. And that I will regain my stride.

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7 Comments

Filed under glass half full, S is for sports, transplant, Y is for Yoga

7 responses to “The journey to the mat

  1. I think yoga is kind of like riding a bicycle. Once you learn, you never really forget. You just need an open and inviting road and you’re back in the saddle. I look forward to hearing more about your next journey!

  2. Walking on Sunshine

    Hey it’s Reeder, from the old site “Reeder’s Corner”… I’ve made a new website so check it out.

    I’m glad that you’re back in the yoga world, it’s a great form of exercise! 🙂

  3. You’ll get back in your stride. I agree with Nilsa, you maybe out of practice but you never forget. That said, I need to learn so i don’t forget either 🙂

  4. Glad you’ve found the right place.

  5. Oooo, I loved this post! Yoga is such a journey, both literally and metaphorically. Finding the right studio is key, and then finding yourself within your practice again…ahhh, that’s the icing on the cake.

    Cheers to finding your yoga groove again! 🙂

  6. ria

    that’s awesome you found a new place for yoga, it’s something i want to try and moving to farmington there are a couple places close by 🙂

  7. Pingback: In defense of yoga « A Super Girl

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