As part of trying to adopt a better work schedule and feel healthier, I’ve set aside time on Mondays and Thursdays for going to the gym.  I’ve been going for about two weeks now.  I started off by doing the usual routine:  running on the treadmill for 10-20 minutes and then weighlifting.  I noticed though that there were various classes that the gym had.  Yoga classes in particular interested me so I asked one of the staff (there’s virtually no English) if I could join.  Sure, she said, I could join and there was no additional fee.  Great.

I went yesterday for the first time.  The teacher was a guy in his late twenties, I’m guessing.  There were maybe ten people in the class.  Another man, in his late 40’s probably, and me were the only guys.  OK, nothing too unusual here.  That was the breakdown in the US when I went regularly two to three times per week for about seven or eight months.  I enjoyed it then and noticed that I better, plus could concentrate better in key situations.  (One such incident I can still clearly remember using the tantric breathing or whatever was on the Brothers Traverse)

Even though I haven’t done real yoga in about five years, not including the easy yoga classes that I attended this summer with my dad, I remembered a lot.  But, this class was tough and some of the stuff I couldn’t do, nor did I try.  I was content to stick with the most basic levels.  We held the positions for a long time, which I like.  It was hot and I was sweating like crazy.  The instructor also came by and corrected us (mostly me) numerous times, easing me into the proper form of the pose.

The class was, of course, in Chinese and I only grasped about 10-15%.  The instructor had decent English though, much better than anyone else at the club I’ve talked to.

Looking forward to going back.