Yoga for Old People in Sacramento
Working out with younger people is not enough of a reason to want to find yoga for old people in Sacramento. Because I honestly do not mind pierced navels, flat stomachs and bright happy faces, all smug and innocent; no, no, no, all of that is perfectly OK with me. What I do mind is exhaustion and my inability to strike certain poses.
My quest since returning from my winter vacation in Hawaii is to find comparable classes of yoga for old people in Sacramento. The place I’ve been going to in Holualoa has created a class that is absolutely perfect for me. Just completely lucked out with this class. At the end, I feel the burn and stretch, and I’m generally panting. Even though it is not exactly a fast-paced class. And the instructor doesn’t just call out the names of poses, he explains precisely how to get oneself into those poses.
Without naming the yoga studio, let’s just say I selected a place not too far from my home in Land Park that offered a variety of classes. Little did I realize they were not really geared for seniors. When I showed up for a yin yoga class, the instructor suggested I pick up a bolster and blocks, and I stared blankly at her. Never heard of those things. We did 4 or 6 poses, with all sorts of weird music playing, and held the poses for a long time.
In the middle of all of this, the instructor stealthily tiptoes over to people and begins to pet them. My husband called it molesting, but it was actually very enjoyable to have my feet stroked, my head rubbed, and my arms petted while in the midst of a pose. However, I did not feel the burn and stretch and I was not panting.
Next up, I tried the vinyasa class. Turned to the guy helping everybody with blocks and bolsters and asked if he realized how hot it was in the room. Yes, he smiled, it’s 98 degrees. Holy crap! It’s bad enough they were demanding we do flying fluid movements, down to the ground, head up, feet back, spring back to your feet. Oh my lord. After 30 minutes I was ready to die. Just close my eyes and never wake up again except it was so friggin’ HOT in that room.
Perhaps it was the pose where you stand on one foot, reach around behind yourself and grab your raised foot, pulling it up over your head that about did me in. Here, I was so proud of myself for learning how to balance on one foot, and they threw this move at me. No way, Jose.
I was a mess. Hair plastered to my head. Dripping wet. Hamstrings aching. This was a bit more of a burn and stretch than I wanted to feel, and I wasn’t merely panting; I looked like a golden retriever, tongue hanging out and sad hang-dog eyes. It was as though somebody had tied me to the back of a pickup truck and dragged me naked for 50 yards. Instead, I grabbed my water bottle and headed for the front desk.
Please, isn’t there someplace I can go to find yoga for old people in Sacramento? They gave me the name of Yoga Seed. At that website, the first thing I noticed was they have special classes for developmentally disabled children on the autism spectrum!
Well, I don’t care what that suggests.
I showed up for my first yoga class there yesterday morning, and it went rather well. Again, they featured not only bolsters and blocks but also belts, yet I made it through the class. It was slightly too slow placed and not entirely challenging for me, but I will return and keep at it. Gentle yoga is better than no yoga at all.