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Yogini

Behind that graceful pose and serene gaze, she’s actually screaming inside…

The Yogini! So…this pose sucks.  It’s beautiful, don’t get me wrong–and it’s a brave move to attempt, let alone master–but it HURTS.  Just plain hurts.  My instructor yesterday put it plainly, “It hurts.  It’s always gonna hurt.  It will become tolerable, but it still hurts like a b*tch” (I do appreciate her honesty…I think I’d be more angry if I had attempted it without knowing the ouch-factor…lifting a leg and going, “WHOAWHOAWHOA WTF????!!!! Why didn’t you WARN me?!”).  I vaguely remember trying it in a previous pole class a month or two ago…and I think by some fluke I kinda nailed it for about 2 seconds…but I have the memory of a goldfish so I recall it as more of a hazy dream than an actual memory…plus, if I had remembered the pain from LAST time, I might not have so eagerly attempted it AGAIN.  Maybe it didn’t even happen. Maybe it WAS a dream.

Okay, enough with yogini-bashing…It’s difficult, it’s painful, but that’s the challenge/beauty of it–overcoming the mind and body and pushing yourself past certain limits.  Here’s a little tutorial I found, if you would actually like to try learning this cool (but most certainly devised by the devil) move:

My experience yesterday went pretty much like this:

  1. Jump around and shake hands around like a little girl after receiving the warning of the pain and seeing it done as an example,
  2. Walk up to the pole and leaning into it, placing my arm around the front and hip up to the pole,
  3. Told to pull pants down a bit for more hip skin-to-pole gripping, proceed to pull down elastic of my shorts, cursing myself for being lazy by failing to purchase some decent pole shorts (I often wear Soffe shorts….I think they’re a softball apparel company… Anyway, they were on sale and came in cool colors, and they’re cotton so they breathe, so screw it),
  4. Sweat bullets and whimper,
  5. Pull one leg back and hold the foot with the arm-pole hand while trying to press the pole into the back of my armpit and front of my hip,
  6. Look at instructor (God bless her, she’s so supportive and encouraging, so I feel the sudden urge to make her proud),
  7. Hear her say, “Now bring up your standing leg and bend it behind you like the other leg,”
  8. Panic.
  9. Hear her say something along the lines of, “You can do it, lift the leg”,
  10. Sweat more bullets,
  11. Bend leg and freak out inside when I feel (and see in the mirror in front of me) my body shifting down with gravity and the sudden pinch of skin in armpit,
  12. Bounce around on standing leg, testing the pain and crying inside,
  13. Conclude that my foot is superglued to the floor, contemplate who the perpetrator might be,
  14. Laugh at myself
  15. Bounce around on leg some more, working up courage to just do it quick, like ripping off a Band-Aid,
  16. Moment of stupidity and courage flashes for an instant, and leg is lifted,
  17. Proceed to wobble for .05 seconds, panic, blinding pain, life flashes before my eyes as I let go of my hand/arm/hip and fly straight down to the floor with a loud, soul-crushing FWAP!!! (it would’ve been a THUMP but I luckily had a crash mat under me),
  18. Sweatily and sheepishly smile up at instructor, who I had heard gasping from shock amidst the sliding of pole on skin, my own yelping, and said mat-FWAP. Maybe she saw my life flash before her eyes, too…
  19. Do it over and over and over again with same results…occasionally hover for .02-.03 seconds longer than before…before crash landing again.

Yep.  That’s me.  But you know what?  I’m going to keep on trying for it.  I will keep trying because I’m determined. Because I am a masochist.  Because I never want to be told or feel that I CAN’T do something.  Because I’m insane (which is also a trait of geniuses, by the way–just sayin’).  Because I know I can–one day.  When I nail that move for longer than 2-3 seconds (or at ALL for that matter), it will be a day of celebration.  In my mind, angels will sing, champagne and bacon strips will rain down from the heavens (don’t judge me), and though my body will be screaming, my heart will be soaring.  My instructor will be proud, I will be proud, and I’ll post it on Facebook (and here) for everyone to admire and be in awe of.  If they aren’t in awe, then they can go to hell–because I DID it, I pushed past my fear and pain and made something beautiful and strong. Winning. Boom. Like a boss.

That is why we do this.  That is what makes pole so invigorating, inspiring, and fulfilling.  The Yogini may suck…but I will make it suck less. Eventually. 🙂

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