My First Yoga Class

I took my first yoga class with a broken wrist.

This just in: it was not easy.

I was a competitive dancer, dedicated distance runner, and collegiate cheerleader. 

(Enter: one obliterated wrist courtesy of a gym-floor-dropped-cheer-stunt mash up) 

I HAD NO CLUE that a VHS yoga tape I found in my mom’s basement would be so difficult.

I ended my first yoga class dizzy, daunted and definitely annoyed. 

Why?

I had no idea how to breathe.

It hurt my wrist (which: duh, I’d just had repair ortho surgery and was now living with a titanium plate, 3 screws and 5 pins in my tiny little arm.)

It hurt my head (which: duh, I basically held my breath for an hour, pretending to be serene.)

It hurt my pride (which: whatever, I was 19. I had ego to spare.)

Despite all this, my Soul was somehow enraptured by the wisdom of yoga as a “practice of union with the Divine.” 

I decided right then and there that I was going to figure out this “yoga thing,” to find a teacher, to study this ancient wisdom, and to use it to help others move better, breathe deeper and love themselves unconditionally through this practice.

What was your first yoga class like?  I’d love to hear your story —