By the time you read this, I will have gone to my first yoga class in about 20 years. And, man, am I nervous.
In my 40s and 50s — I’m 67 now — I had a semi-regular yoga routine. I attended group classes at the downtown YMCA and a couple of other local studios. For a while, I even attended 6 a.m. classes, which is remarkable because this was in pre-Starbucks Chattanooga.
I always felt better after yoga. My shoulders relaxed into better posture. I slept better at night. And, most importantly, my stress level went down.
Hoping to recapture these healthy benefits, I recently signed up for beginner classes at my neighborhood yoga studio. Some of my Sunday School friends recommended the place. “Our class is hard but worth it,” was the way one friend put it.
Leading up to the first class, I’ve been worried about the normal things: Can I find my old yoga mat in the garage, do I have appropriate pants and will the first forward fold make me faint? It’s the last one I worry about most. I do not want my first yoga class in 20 years to be memorable due to an ambulance ride.