Seasonal yoga.

Especially this time of year, serenity is to be desired. And if there's a way to get more exercise, it seemed reasonable to go for it. So last Saturday, I walked into a 75 minute "Yoga Flow" class at the University Y, led by an amazingly tolerant and kind instructor. I got through the class without much embarrassment, though I had not done yoga for years, by simply resting when it was clear my knees or hips would not assume the position.

I paid for my earnestness the next day, with gluts that burned and barely moved. I went in to train on Monday, feeling pretty loose -- but then saw my chiropractor (who I think is also a medicine man) later that evening. He found almost everything out of whack -- C2, thoracic region, pelvis -- and wondered if I had fallen. I told him no, the new variant was the yoga class. He asked if perhaps I wanted to dial it back for a bit.

So I started a lunchtime Iyengar beginners yoga class that meets on Tuesday and Thursday. The good news is that it's twice a week and only 45 minutes long. I'm stiff from the Thursday class, probably from tricking myself into thinking it was so much simpler than the Yoga Flow course. My ribs in particular seem to freeze and lock up at odd times. Still, it's worth seeing if I can find serenity like so many others do in this discipline.

Such virtue should carry some side benefits, so I have both a facial and a massage coming up in the next two weeks as I decorate the house to celebrate the season.