Lisa the Yogi

A couple weeks ago, I did something I thought I'd never do in a million years: I joined a gym. Influenced by peer pressure, I paid actual money to sweat and make myself hurt all over.

Ok, so that's not the full story, but it's what it boils down to in some sense. See, about six months ago, our pastor and his wife joined this same gym and started taking a power yoga class there. Since Elizabeth and I hang out at all sorts of moms events through church, I heard all about the horrid pain they were put through twice a week and how great it was making them feel. Mark even started mentioning his experiences with yoga in his sermons on Sunday mornings. Now, I've done yoga at home by myself for five or six years now, and just recently started dabbling in the group experience through a class offered by the occupational therapist of a college acquaintance, and I've come to really enjoy the benefits of working out in a group: comeraderie, support, empathy in the midst of pain, etc. So, when my friend Andrea called me to ask me to join her in attending the same class as Mark and Elizabeth, she hit me at just the right time, and I caved.

So I signed up for the promotional 3-day-a-week deal at this local gym called ICE. (No idea why they capitalize all the letters or what it's supposed to mean, but it sure sounds tough -- like by going to this gym, my body is going to be a hard as ice....able to be smashed into a million pieces with a hammer or ground up in a blender. Fun.) On my first day, last week on Tuesday, I got a grand tour of the state-of-the-art facilities, received a cool key ring swipe card (like what you use at Kroger to get good deals on your groceries), and was shown where the yoga class takes place. Walking in, feeling a bit trepidatious about what I was getting myself into, I was greeted by familiar faces from church, namely my friends Elizabeth, Mark, Andrea, and Chelsea, and settled in on my blue sticky mat to do some warmup stretches. The instructor -- a chic, strong, and serious looking girl named Abby who also looked strangely familiar (see picture to the left) -- walked in, plugged in her microphone, turned on some soothing yet rockin' music, and began our class with some breathing exercises. She then proceeded to kick our butts for the next 70 minutes until we were all shaking and sweating buckets. I'd never felt so alive and dead at the same time.

As I was walking out of the class, feeling like I was going to need a serious nap when I got home, I suddenly saw a picture of Abby in my head in a white shirt and an Olive Garden tie -- ah yes! that's where I knew her from! Eric and I had worked with her at O.G. back in our Bethel undergrad and first year of marriage days. Feeling a bit embarrassed at her seeing me all red-faced and sweaty while she looked like she hadn't moved a muscle the whole time, I nevertheless re-introduced myself and shared some laughs with her over our server experiences. I went home feeling empowered and strong.

And the next day, I could hardly sit down or stand up without groaning. Thank goodness, on Thursday, we worked our arms instead of our legs and I couldn't lift anything without groaning on Friday. Then yesterday, my abs hurt so much from this Tuesday's workout that I could hardly do either one without groaning. Oh, it's all so much fun!

I'm really enjoying this experience, though. I doubt I'll be able to do it much longer than two months due to budget issues, but I'm going to soak up everything I'm learning and make every workout count until then.

Here's Ian and I doing "oga" at home together. He loves the downward dog and plank poses.