Yoga, run, repeat

You all know I've got a thing for working out. A good workout can clear my head, take me on foot to roads and paths I'd never see otherwise, and it's a damn good way to break up the day. I love feeling sore the day after a good workout. It's like I've woken up muscles I didn't even know I had.

Running is getting harder to squeeze in with our schedules and the sun's early departure. However, in addition to some pocket-size cardio sessions at the company gym, I've been hitting up two local yoga studios for my workouts du jour.

I've embraced yoga on and off over the years. I first encountered sun salutations while at a high school arts program at Bennington College in VT. The instructor was a willowy blonde named Willa, and she also served as the art department's nude model. She was a few years older than us, and I thought she was pretty artsy-cool. I then went on to explore yoga in a sweaty basement of UConn (with 150 other co-eds: next!), power yoga at Gold's Gym in Boston (hard core workout), and a prenatal class in Seattle (love you, Yoga Mama!)

I tagged along with a co-worker to the lunchtime class at Downtown Yoga a few months ago and have been going once or twice a week since. The studio isn't any great shakes, although it's nicely perched atop charismatic Pratt Street, with old school floor-to-ceiling windows (read: cold in winter, sweltering in summer). I found a teacher there whom I really like. Her class was gentle yoga, or as I like to call it, Granny yoga. It's more of a massage than a workout, but I don't care, it feels awesome (especially while training for the Hartford Marathon relay - do you know how tight runners get?) She was so calming and gentle, I basically melted into the floor by the the time we did Savasana. As with all teacher-student relationships, some teachers just speak to you.

You can imagine my disappointment when she was scrapped from the schedule without warning. Apparently there was some very un-yogi fall out between her and the owner. Her noon slot was switched to YogaFlow, which was an unexpected sweat fest that made me long for a towel, personal fan, and hair elastic. Part of the reason I like mid-day yoga is because I can de-stress without returning to the office with beads of sweat on my brow.

Fortunately, I've found another couple teachers there that I like. One swears that yoga and music go together "like chocolate and peanut butter", and we rock out to some decent tunes while we go through our vinyasa. We recently did a workout to a mix I swear I created in 11th grade. It was a lovely walk down Tori Amos/Sarah McLachlan/Rusted Root lane.

Well my favorite teacher now subs at West Hartford Yoga (aka WHY), where they also host a pre-natal class (yep, I qualify!) I bought a monthlong trial pass, and have not gone as much as I'd like, but still. I like that they have classes later at night. I went to one class that focused on meditation and began with some low humming, taught by an middle-age hippie spririt named Shankara. Do you think that's his birth name?

I want to get my mom into yoga, and I mentioned bringing her to a WHY class soon. We Leonard ladies are a high-strung, adrenaline-seeking, type-A bunch. The focused breathing and mindfulness of yoga is something I really have to concentrate on, but it is so damn rejuvenating. We could all use the mental and physical unwind that yoga provides. And have you seen any yoga teachers' bodies lately? They are pretty much ripped. I'm trying to get my arm muscles back via chaturangas.