My 5 apologies not to go to yoga class

It is 4.10 pm and my early evening yogales is less than an hour’s drive. I have been looking forward to closing this laptop all day, but for some reason my perfect excuse for sending my last E -mail has now become a bit of an afterwork albatross.

You see, this is the time of the day where I am starting to make apologies because I don’t go to the yoga class. Is it muscle pain? Could it be a completely social schedule? Anyway, they are rarely enough to miss the class, but I think my apologies might get better – and that is a problem. Here there are a few who have tipped the scales to the couch lately. Staff?

“I’ll do it from home.”

Creeps the patron saints of YouTube for the detection of so easily accessible, and well soundtracked yoga packages at the push of a button. For some reason, I now have the perfectly rationalized excuse not to drive halfway through the city to be with other people and a real breathing teacher, and to settle for my home office/apartment/bedroom/study studio instead. That seems healthy and productive, right?

“I’ve just eaten.”

This is versatile. First, if we need 45 minutes to establish our stomach before we go swimming, how much time do you think we need before we subtract your first arching? I am not a digestion expert, but I place that number in one hour and 15 minutes. From there, let’s view the right attacks for bloated bellies and the very real possibility that part of this digestion can be accompanied by sounds and movements outside our control. That is enough for me to press the pause button – and to pick up the second half of that sandwich.

“I’m looking for more training.”

I will reach this when my masculinity feels particularly vulnerable. Yoga? What about back and breast day? I am not here to stretch, I am here to get a good sweat and bulk before the ski season. This is a front, and probably my weakest at that. What I really try to say is that I am still painful from last week, and that I don’t want to embarrass myself for strangers … again.

“New instructor? Hard pass.”

One of the more convenient apologies, a new instructor presents a different class dynamic, a variation in poses … and the perfect opportunity to save. Change is difficult, and when it comes to changing yoga teachers on me just when I start feeling that I can endure a whole class without shudding pain, that sentiment is only strengthened. Yoga is about a new beginning and open communication, but when it comes to hearing that of someone I have never met before – I am outside.

“Late run. I can’t do the uncomfortable walk.”

I probably didn’t have to repeat my wax, but now I am about to be five minutes late to class. By the time I grab my mat and blocks, the class may already move through the first Vinyasa current. In the meantime I will be on my way to rotating bodies to the rear corner of shame, hoping to prevent a catastrophic journey and the anger of the more schedule. No, I can’t handle that kind of pressure. I think I’m sitting this. When does the class start tomorrow?