Yoga
I started taking yoga at work.

I've never done yoga before, unless you count that thing we did once in gym class in which our teacher, the one with the she-mullet, had us sit on a mat, close our eyes and imagine the ocean.

Yoga is offered during lunch on the stage in the auditorium on Tuesdays at Fermilab. I bought a purple yoga mat at Whole Foods and some stretch pants from Target and I was ready to go.

The first day, about a dozen of us set up our mats in a circle in the constricted space with our instructor in the center, facing his audience. He had us go around and talk about ourselves for the first few minutes: What's your name? Why are you doing this?

About half of us had never done yoga before. The other half had reasons like, "My back hurts," and "Otherwise I can't stand on one foot."

When we got back to our instructor, a slightly scruffy guy in his early 30s, he straightened his back from his already bolt upright position and told us his name.

"And I do it because I have to," he said. "If I don't do it, my life slowly starts toppling out of balance, and I just lose all control. I have to. I do it because I can't not do it." He huffed out a laugh and then smiled and rolled his eyes upward, shaking his head in a private joke between himself and, I assume, God?

We began the class with some easy stretching and very controlled breathing. For almost an hour I did not take a single breath without this man telling me to. It was interesting. I never realized how much you can control your breathing if you think about it. At some points I started to get a little panicky, thinking I would run out of air. And that made me lose my rhythm. But it only happened a couple of times, and after that I got right back into the pattern of deep-breath-in, hold it, hooold it, releeeeeease.

He did different exercises in 20 minute intervals. During one, he had us holding our noses and breathing in one nostril and out the other. In-right, out-left, in-left, out-right. That made me the most panicky, especially since (and oh is this ever nerdy) I discovered during a Peace Corps medical test that I have a deviated septum. But I got it.

At one point, he had us lifting our feet in the air, which, if anyone remembers from track & field, really hurts your stomach. Nobody whined, but the instructor laughed after he told us what to do.

"Oh ho ho," he said, sounding slightly strained as he lifted his legs as well. "Abs 101. This is beginner abs! It's either beginner abs or no abs! I won't even tell you about intermediate abs! You can't even imagine intermediate abs!" He laughed a little more and told us to pedal our legs in the air as if we were riding bicycles. "Now go backwards! Haha!"

At the end of the session, he had us all sit up an put our hands together.

"Now we're going to give thanks," he said. "And any yoga instructor who does not have you give thanks at the end of the session, to God, to whoever you worship, to the Universe for letting us enjoy the gift of yoga, they're not a real yoga instructor. And even I, I don't even know, I'm just helping. I'm not there yet. I'm going through this the same as you.

"Thank you for allowing us to enjoy this yoga experience," he said, then ended the class.

"I teach a different kind of yoga," he said to no one in particular as we rolled up our mats. "Only one other teacher in the Chicago area teaches like this."

"What kind of yoga is it?" someone asked.

"Well, it's just normal yoga. It's Hatha Yoga. But if you start giving it a name people get all scared."

"Um, no, it's a lot scarier if you just tell us that," I said, but I don't think he heard me.

Well, it was good stretching. If I find out we're accidentally worshiping Satan, I'll see about a refund.