My Husband, the Yogi Master

So, Hubs had been bugging me to do a class with him at the gym.  I am seriously not the gym class type.  I get anxious about what to wear, how my fitness compares to others, remembering moves, etc.  There happens to be a couple of yoga classes on Wednesdays, Patrick's day off.  I gave in and agreed to go with him to one of these yoga classes the first week of January.  I figured, at least in yoga, our fitness levels would be a little more evenly matched.  Wrong.

I am totally addicted to these classes now, which I'll get into later, and have since dragged P to one every week.  This last week, we attended one taught be a tiny little blonde lady, more fitness instructor than yoga enthusiast.  Well, I think she thought she was going to show off and try and teach us all the "Firefly" pose, thinking no one would be able to do it except her.  Hmm, I guess she hadn't counted on my World Championship Athlete of a husband showing up.

Not an actual picture of P. Downey, but pretty close. 

She actually walked up to him and said, a little dumfoundedly, "Have you done this before?"  He, while still in the pose, answered calmly and sheepishly "Nope."  I love that man.

And I love yoga! Seriously, I thought I knew yoga.  Patrick and I have a few DVDs; Yoga for Athletes, Yoga for Pregnant People or something like that.  I figured I was going to this class to spend time with my husband, but I knew what I needed to know about stretching.  Dude, I get it now.  I am a total addict and want to do it everyday.  The DVDs aren't going to cut it anymore.  The girl that teaches our class on Wednesday evenings is exactly how a yoga instructor should be.  Long messy hair, maybe a dredlock or two, several piercings, trendy thick rimmed glasses...I love her.   I think her name is Eden or something.  She takes her job very seriously.  The lights are low, the room is hot, and she walks around breathing loudly and softly correcting our poses.  She gives us yoga meditations at the end to think about as we relax.  I'm learning what "Vinyasa" and "Pranayama" means.  You'd think that me and my semi-hippy lifestyle would have discovered this earlier in life, but whatever, here it is, and I love it!

P is also slightly in love with it, but he insists he needs a badass mat to set himself apart from the other males in the class.  He is desperately searching the webernet for a black mat with flames or a Metallica symbol or something.  Harder to find than you would think.