I fell on my Asana...

Its New Years day. And dawning just slightly behind your growing pot belly, is the very notion that's its time to get some exercise. Build a new you. Regain sight of your little fireman when you go for a tinkle winkle in the morning.

But wait! What will you do???

We've all hit this junction at one point or another. The sudden realisation that our bodies are not responding well to the parade of processed fast food we doth insist on sliding down our gullets, followed closely by the amber nectar - Wine if you are posh - to lubricate the way for the next portion.

Now, the male psyche is such that in the desire to lose the spare tyre that is rapidily expanding we instinctively set our sights on activities that require the necessity to touch other men (Popular choice is the latently homo-erotic Sunday league football cobblers. Personally I have no desire to hug/kiss/bathe with other men under the pretext it is macho bonding.'Extreme sports' sports are also popular and much lauded by Men's Health magazine (with their immaculately groomed, shiny pearly Yank male models on the front, extolling the virtues of the triple sided Swedish crunch for maximum Ab pump. Arse) This is cool if you are a merchant banker and you wear articles of clothing with 'Hackett' on the front. "5 grand for a snowboarding weekend in Naples? Yah. Count me in!"

The modern, heterosexual, economically thinking man goes with the ladies...

Aerobics, Pilates, Tae-Bo - Sweet Jesus! You would have to be desperate - and my personal saviour - Yoga!

Yeah! Yoga! Now cue exclamations of "Ooh, I'm not flexible enough to do yoga" "Er..It'll be full of women." "Isn't it a bit too easy and gay?"

When I hear such blasphemy, I can only - in a BA Baraccus style - pity the crazy fool. I am a yoga smackhead now of nearly a year and a half and before you question my sexuality, for fours years prior I engaged myself totally in the anti-pacifist past time of Muay Thai boxing. Got a lovely misshapen hooter and trouble with creaking knees to show for it now but at the time the surge of testosterone and adrenalin from punching out another human beings lights really oiled my gears.

Now, like most people I tend to do a little research on potential hobbies before I try them. I bought the books, videos and accessories, and as is the case with most lifestyle changing impulses, it was all consigned to the dusty corner of my room, with the 'German for beginners' tapes and aromatherapy kit, after a cursory flick. Then fate weaved its mysterious weave...

The town I live in has fuck all in the way of interesting shops & buildings. Just a load of building societies and working class appeal shops (ie, poundlands and the like) but walking into a previously unchartered territory ('terroritory is a more apt description of this area) there it was! Birmingham's first dedicated BKS Lyengar Yoga Institute!

Now, old BKS single-handedly brought Yoga to the West during the sixties. Yehudi Mennhuin sought his council and when Iyengar cured him off all the muscle pain from years of violin playing, Yehudi told anybody that would listen about Iyengar and so the legend was born.

I went in and booked myself onto the beginners course and was slightly agog at the amount of, excuse my commonness, 'fit birds' that turned up for the class. The male to female ration was 15:2 and the other bloke there was clearly as gay as a window. So much eye candy was on offer to me that even if the class sucked, it would not be a total let down. The first poses were introduced and it was going quite well until the Vrkasana pose was offered up.

Now Vrkasana (pronounced 'Vrik-ahh-sana') is the tree pose. You adopt a quasi 'end of Karate Kid Crane kick stance' (Isn't that the best final showdown scene of any film, ever?) with your arms straight up in the air and all your weight on one leg. You are required to fix your vision on a imaginary point and hence you balance. Cue me falling over sideways, comically still in the position because my leg had got stuck on my thigh. Ouch. That was my first painful dose of humility and I've not missed a session since.

Don't get me wrong! I'm no yoga master yet and won't be for a long time but the benefits of this lifestyle - and it is a lifestyle - is character changing. Your mind frame is calmer. You become indifferent to the hustle 'n' bustle around you. It gets my friend calmly through her morning Tube commute. You feel more energised in the morning. You walk taller. You no longer take on the slouch of the bell keeper at Notre Dame. You meet interesting people - admittedly most do fill the stereotype but they are nice & harmless (except one who's a Fighter Pilot and happily blows up Iraqi kids in the week but least her demeanor is calm whilst doing it). You're easier to buy Christmas presents for, etc etc etc.

And if you needed any further reasoning as to why you should do it Gentlemen, I'll leave you with this thought :-

Sting was really not taking the piss when he said "seven hours as a minimum". Trust me!

What are you waiting for?

Submitted by Clyde Martin-Leon

Back to front

Click here for BFH merchandise