My first vinyasa class was on a Monday morning at 8:00. I was on vacation in the Florida keys, the first and only time I had been there, and we were staying in Key Largo.
It wasn't particularly hot or humid that May morning. I walked south from my little beachside motel on the bay side along the Overseas Highway for about 7 minutes, crossed the street to an early 1980s-ish looking two-story office building in the median, the sort of building you'd find on virtually any main highway street in any city in the U.S. There are probably two hundred thousand of these exact buildings around our suburban nation, and this particular one perhaps held a small realty office on one end, a paint store on the other, a Notary's office sandwiched in-between, you name it...but upstairs in the middle was the yoga studio, and I had arrived a full half hour before class to a locked and dark door.
Not too long after the teacher arrived, Lauren Ferrante, who took me in and had me fill out the typical newcomer form saying I won't sue the studio should I fall out of Sarvangasana with a C4 fracture. I will say this -- Lauren was the exact sort of person I had always held resentments against -- and was the exact sort of person ironically who would help me, over time and indirectly, to no longer hold such resentments through yoga practice. She was impossibly good looking, and for this 230# middle aged, unfit man I found myself immediately forming judgments against her. Indeed, these judgments were entirely about me, about my own inadequacies, my own desires. I cannot stress how uncomfortable I felt in that room for the next fifteen minutes until another student arrived. These will be the topics of several dozen future blog posts.
I hadn't brought my mat with me on my flight, and so I rolled out the thin Gaia mat I'd picked up at a Target or some such store. I may have had a water bottle. It strikes me as austere compared to the ritual I perform today in prepping my little yoga space. I had no "yoga wear" -- just cotton shorts and a heavy cotton short sleeve Carhartt t-shirt, the only shirts I always wear everywhere. These, it would turn out, would become quite miserable quite soon.
I cannot say I remember anything about how the class started, how many yogis came, how it ended, if Ujjayi was even suggested or if I tried to follow it (although I'm sure it was), and really, I don't remember any particular postures. I only remember that she maintained a connective flow between poses with a fairly regular transition between them. I know this today as vinyasa, the connection of body movement with breath. At the time I did not have this understanding. Although I was familiar with sun salutations, I had never experienced such yoga before.
For what little I can remember, I today rate that 75 minute event as among the most epiphanic moments of my life. It seemed vaguely aerobic, a practice that developed flexibility through strength. The combined humidity of south Florida, and the heat generated by a dozen yogis resulted in saturated cotton clothes (pretty heavy!) and an ice-rink of a mat with all that sweat. But I loved it. I loved the exhaustion I felt, the feeling right after the muscle shaking subsides, lying in Savasana. I had always loved working out but this was entirely different than riding the bike 20 miles, or running a few laps or lifting weights. I was smitten.
After class, Lauren said to provide feedback to the studio owner as this was her first class she'd taught. I now think she meant the first she'd taught at that studio, but either way, there were several firsts. I remember going back the next morning, with her admonishing me to take it easy, as I had told her the day before was the most difficult class I had ever taken. I don't think I took it easy.
I was able to get to four or five classes that week; I don't remember the exact number, but I do know that on the third visit I bought my first Manduka eQua mat towel, something today I must use in any heated studio. I just recently donated that very towel to another yogi at my local studio who was unemployed and said she couldn't afford a towel.
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