Yogatta Be Kidding Me!
Chapter Two: Warrior I
The Warrior I pose (virabhadrasana I) is a lunge with both feet planted firmly on the mat. The front foot faces forwards and the back foot is turned perpendicular to the edge of the mat. It is important to keep hips alligned, with hands raised above the head.
Challenge Your Pose: Try to take a back bend and hold it for three breaths.
Arnold waved goodbye to Danielle and exited through the back door of the studio. He unlocked the Packard door and dropped his bag into the passenger seat. His shoulders sank into the seat as he started the car. He found his posture improved over the past year of his practice, but it still helped that he could relax in the orthopedically padded seat his grandpa had installed before giving Arnold the car.
Grandpa couldn't drive anymore, so Arnold spent most of his days off driving him around, or running errands for him. Grandma wasn't as active with her imagination as she used to be-at least, not after her stroke four years ago. Arnold had just started high school, was preparring to spend the day at Gerald Field playing a pick up game with the guys when his cell phone rang. He ran the ten miles to the hospital, stopping only to vomit out of nerves and exhaustion on mile seven.
It was hard to accept the fact that they were growing older. His guardians were, technically, no longer legally necessary. . .but they were family. His only family, really, and their age was becoming a burden he couldn't ignore. Every time he silenced his cell phone at the studio, he worried he would miss an emergency call.
The other borders tried to help out, tried to assist in any way they could.
Oskar started to pay rent on time to minimize Phil's stress, and agreed to stay home three days a week, take care of the pets, help with household tasks. Mr. Hyunh had been promoted to assistant chef at the restaurant and worked very flexible hours, always bringing home a hot meal. Arnold couldn't remember the last time anyone else had cooked. The pots and pans had begun collecting dust in the cabinets.
Ernie began doing all of the household repairs, free of charge. He'd begun his own contracting and construction company, and worked from home three days a week. With both Oskar and Ernie around the house, Arnold could start a full time job. He and Susie would greet each other in the morning as they went off to work by making breakfast together, one making coffee, the other toast.
After an afternoon of at the yoga studio, Arnold worked a night shift as a security guard at the Trust Bank downtown, from 8 pm until 6 am. Then he'd practiced yoga on the Sunset Arms roof at 6:30 to greet the sunrise, then he'd get his two hours of sleep, waking up at 8:30. He'd shower, get dressed, and head to Miss Vitello's flower shop by 9 am. After she broke her hip, she asked Arnold if he could assit in running the shop and coordinating deliveries. Miss Vitello's nephew also helped at the shop so Arnold could instruct at the studios during the week at 4, and on Wednesday night Beginners classes. Arnold was hoping to earn his yoga instructor certification from the studio, which would give him the freedom to travel and teach at different studios.
If he could just bring himself to leave home.
Arnold parked at the neighborhood parking garage, waving at the secutiry guard. He smiled as Arnold offered him the last of his hot coffee. "Thanks, Arnold! How've you been?"
"Busy," he smiled and adjusted his uniform's tie. At a distance, he appeared to be a police officer. Dark navy slacks, black shoes, navy shirt, black tie, an assortment of badges, and a heavy leather holster on his hips. Arnold wasn't licensed to carry a weapon, since it required over forty hours of training classes. He was the youngest, and only, guard unarmed at the bank. Arnold spent most of his nights at the front teller's desks, making sure none of the employees were stealing or short-changing customers. He worked with strong older men who carried handguns, tasers, and nightsticks.
Arnold walked across the street and down the block to the bank. He went to the employee entrance and entered his personal code (118*) and swiped his ID badge. The door unlocked and Arnold waved at the officer who ran the metal dectector and gun checkpoint. She smiled. Arnold's shoes still squeaked on the marble floor, but all of the officers recognized his footsteps. There was never much noise at night, other than the low hum of a radio or hushed whispers of the men.
Arnold sat down at the first teller's desk and began counting.
Take a deep breath in. Plant your feet, reach your arms up. Stretch. Inhale. Hold it. Exhale. Stretch. Hold it.
Arnold felt the sweat drip down his forehead as he bent his back towards the floor. He had begun taking a deeper back bend in his Warrior I pose, hoping it would inspire him to see his practice from a new, fresh perspective.
Arnold kept his eyes focused on his outstretched hands, flexing his fingers to make sure his entire body was awake and moving.
The sun had just started to change the color of the sky, from a lovely pink to a deep blue, but Arnold could only feel the sun beating on his exposed and stretched abdomen.
Arnold controlled his release in the pose, breathing deeply as he straightened his spine. He returned to his deep lunge, turning his body into Warrior II, which has his feet remain in the same position, but his hips and upper body turned to the left, with his arms stretched out into a 'T' shape. Arnold groaned as his shoulderblades set deep into his back. Sweat dropped down his flexed abdomen.
He had seen some of the women watch him in class. He was young, flexible, and strong. He was always courteous, chilvarious, and helpful to the women. He helped them carry their bags to their cars, or walked them to the parking garage a few blocks away. He never flirted with them like Instructor Andrew did.
But he had to admit, yoga was certainly helping his body. He had always been active and fit, even when he didn't play school sports, but yoga forced his core to be constantly engaged, and over the past year, he had seen a small set of abs emerge. He had never been self-conscious of his body, and even grew into his head more than he expected.
Football Head.
Helga's voice jarred him out of his chaturanga (high plank) causing his wrists to give out and forehead meet the ground. He laughed as he bent into Child's Pose to catch his breath.
He pushed up into Downward Dog, his body in an upside-down V, and lifted his right leg, hoping to open up the musles in his hips before his hour of personal practice was over.
"Hello, Arnold," Susie smiled as she handed him a to-go mug of coffee.
"Morning," he replied.
"Did you fall this morning during your session?" Susie didn't look up from the counter. She buttered her toast before adding strawberry jam. Arnold picked a plain piece and bit into it. He always found himself avoiding strawberries, but he couldn't remember why. He knew his grandfather had always said "Never eat raspberries," but he'd never mentioned strawberries.
"Yeah, sorry, my wrists gave out. Did I make a lot of noise?"
"Just shook the chandelier is all," she smiled. "I'll see you tomorrow?"
"Right," Arnold grabbed his car keys off the hook by the back door and followed Suisie outside.
Arnold didn't drive to Miss Vitello's, but he always needed to be sure that the keys were outside of the house. If Gertie ever found them, she would certainly go on a joy ride. Ernie was the only other person with permission from Phil to drive the car, and he kept a spare key taped to the bottom of his bed frame.
Arnold searched his key ring for a few minutes until he found the right key for the back door. He was expecting a big delivery of sunflowers later this morning, but for the next hour all he had to do was water the plants. He was hoping no customers would stop this afternoon by so he could take a small nap in the back.
Arnold checked his cell phone for the first time all night. He had a text message from Allie, the receptionist at the Yoga Studio. UR FRIEND HELGA LEFT HER NOTEBOOK. CAN'T GET A HOLD OF HER. WILL U MAKE SURE SHE GETS IT?
Arnold replied, "YES. SEE YOU LATER." before booting up the old desktop on Miss Vitello's desk. Well, it was Arnold's desk now, since she only came into the shop to make special arrangements for the vases. The monitor slowly hummed to life, greeting him with a loud and outdated YOU'VE GOT MAIL message. 30 NEW MESSAGES blinked on the screen. Arnold sighed and began digging through his inbox. Only six more hours until yoga.
Helga hardly slept. Her entire life was suddenly out of order, and over what? Arnold?
No. She was not going to let her little crush get in the way of her moving on and growing up. She had moved on since her obsession. She had tried, and failed clearly, to move on from Arnold. There had been dates, and one disastrous attempt at a relationship, since her time as a P.S. 118 student. The high school had almost 4,000 students. Except Helga could never really find any boy that made her feel anythingexcept contempt. . . .No. Arnold was a part of her past. Her not-so-distant high school past. He was Arnold for Mighty Pete's sake! He was always a responsible goody-two-shoes with his nose in everyone's business and he was sweet and kind.
And he looked so good in those running shorts. . . No, Helga, focus. Helga gently smacked her cheeks a few times to bring herself back. She was in her Introduction to Sociology class, trying to take notes on some stupid reading she didn't do yesterday, when all she could feel was his hand pressing into her stomach.
Oh, God. I'm screwed.
Helga's favorite class was Introduction to Poetry, meeting Tuesdays and Thursdays from 3:00 until 4:30. She loved studying the art of poetics, even though she'd been writing for nine years, she felt more empowered once she began learning more and more about form, motifs, similies and metaphors. Of course, she learned some of it in high school, but this was college. Everything was more significant here.
Helga had an uncomfortable thought nagging at the back of her head since yesterday. It wasn't anything bad-just a fog in her head. She knew she'd forgotten her credit card in her rush out of the sports store, but she felt like she was forgetting something else. She knew it wasn't Phoebe's birthday, or any significant date in Olga's life. . . so what was it?
She opened up her backpack, unzipping the secret compartment reserved for her poetry notebook, when it hit her.
Sonofabitch! Helga set her jaw tight. Her assignments for today's class were in there. Now she was going to get a failing grade.
Unless. . .
Helga looked at the clock. Class began in five minutes. If she left now, ran to the studio, grabbed the notebook, and ran back she'd be back by 3:15 at the latest. She'd get a tardy, but she could explain everything to her professor at her office hours. She could do it. She was Miss Five Minute Mile after all.
Helga stood up and ran.
Okay, so running from 22nd to 8th St. wasn't her smartest idea. The distance wasn't exactly a mile, but she definitley sprinted the last three blocks back to campus. She made it into her classroom at 3:20. She was definitley slower than she was in high school.
Her professor grinned at Helga's entrance, her discombobulated and frantic nature. "So happy to see you join us, Miss Pataki."
"Sorry Professor," Helga took the empty desk closest to the door and opened up her notebook.
"Now, back to what I was saying about rhythm and timing," her professor turned to the whiteboard and began writing out different metric patterns for differet types of poems.
After class, Helga waited at her desk. She approached her professor after everyone left, "I am so sorry about that, Professor."
Sandra Sampson smiled. She was in her early thirties, with a small career of nationally published poetry collections. She had traveled all over the world during her undergraduate and graduate career, which was expressed through tattoos that she hid under sheer clothing and long dresses. She'd been teaching for almost ten years, and never in her time had she seen someone with the same unbridled passion as Helga Pataki. Sandra brushed the dry erase board marker off her hands, "What happened?"
"I left my notebook at the yoga studio-"
"It's okay, Helga. You're not in trouble."
Helga felt a weight collapse off her shoulders. "Really?"
"No. I know how meditation can be for writing, so it's easy to see why you were so inspired. Honestly, I hope your writing becomes even more prolific and profound with your new practice."
Helga forced a smile. Of course, she thought. "I will let you know what happens."
Helga decided that she preferred to watch the women entering the yoga studio instead of going in herself. She set herself up at the coffeeshop, at the far corner by the window, so she had the perfect angle to see the mothers entering the studio. Most wore very tight patterened pants, which she was sure they'd been in all day.
The 5:30 class was almost twice as full as the 4:00, which Helga was happy about. The more people, the easier she could just blend in.
After plopping herself in the far corner in the second row of mats, Helga sighed. This was going to be a long, difficult class. Her collarbones and shoulders were in a lot of pain, with muscles she hadn't used since she was a kid playing baseball in the vacant lot. Helga took a deep breath and sat on her heels, waiting for the instructor to turn off the meditation music and begin.
The good news was that Arnold was no where near the studio now. Helga exhaled again through her nose, feeling her back relax slightly.
"Alright, good afternoon class. I'm Mary and I'm so excited for you all to be here today. Let's start in Child's Pose." Helga spread her knees wide, taking a deep breath to take the focus off the stiffness in her hips. She had never realized how unstretched her inner thighs were. "Keep your forehead on your mat and roll your head back and forth. I want you to get all of the tension out of your eyebrows. Then I want you to come to stillness. Set your intention for your class today. Your I Am Statement. 'I am enough.' 'I am strong.' Whatever you need to help meditate on."
Helga thought, I am okay, knowing it was the best she would come up with until this punishment was over.
"Now I want everyone to rise up to Tabletop. We'll do a few Cat and Cow poses." In order to open up the collarbones, it was important to move your spine and lower back. Helga focused on breathing in, pulling her neck and stomach inwards for Cow pose. On her exhale she stretched her head and spine upwards, arching her back into Cat pose.
She wondered why more guys didn't do yoga. Helga could only see a sea of women's toned asses in front of her.
"I want to hear everyone breathing! If you can't hear your partner, breathe for them!"
Helga sighed, hoping that it counted as an audible breath.
"Alright, come to stillness. I want you to roll back into Downward Dog."
Helga pushed up. A true Downward Dog position was achieved when a person's heels were flat against the mat, but Helga could hardly keep anything but her toes down. She kept her knees bent, her palms pressed deeply into the mat. "Raise your right leg and plant it between your hands. Rise up to Warrior I."
Helga's balance was off, and she found herself falling forwards for most of her lunges. The sun salutation cycle continued, beginning at the chaturanga, before transitioning into Upward Facing Dog, which involved suspending her entire body off the mat and only allowing her hands and the tops of her feet touching. "I want you to really open your chest. Push forwards," Mary said. Helga's lower back ached. From Upward Facing Dog, everyone moved to Downward Facing Dog. The transition to Warrior I was still hesitant and awkward for Helga. She was unable to really stretch tall when it was all she could do not to fall down.
The class was a struggle.
Helga's right knee gave out during Tree pose, which has one foot pressing into the opposite thigh, the other foot rooted onto the mat for balance. Helga fell onto her sweaty foam, her cheeks flushed from a combination of strain and embarrassment. This was yoga for crying out loud. Wasn't it supposed to be easy?
