Back to the mat

 

I’m such a Virgo that a schedule can soothe my soul, although paradoxically I sometimes find myself grinding my teeth over the sameness of my retirement days. There's just no pleasing some people.

I like, though, to know what’s in the week ahead.

Now that the weather’s chilled up, two days that used to involve golf are no more, and I don’t miss it much (I’m sure that has nothing to do with the abysmal turn my game took toward the end of the summer.) But I do need to keep the creaky body parts moving, so I’ve rediscovered yoga.

I’ve always enjoyed it – exercise where you don’t have to jump around getting all sweaty, and the movements are so slow they’d make a sloth happy.  My aging knees however . . . . not so much. Still, I gave it another go this week, guided there by a new friend who I play Mahjong with.

Both the Wednesday and Friday classes at the YMCA are low-key and kind. I even discovered that while sitting tailor fashion (or Indian style, as we used to say) at the beginning of the session is both painful and awkward, but by the end of the class my joints seem to be more cooperative.

And unlike classes I’ve taken in Florida, there’s no competition to see who has the snazziest Lycra outfit or who can twist themselves into improbable positions bendier than a sailor’s dream.