yoga for seniors (lyn)

Last week I’m donating a book to the library, and a sign catches my eye as I walk in.

Yoga for seniors.  Every Tuesday and Thursday at 10:30 in John Jay Park.  Must be 60 or older.

I’m going to do it.  I picture myself looking good doing yoga among 80 year olds.  I picture myself getting proficient, and moving on to real yoga with younger people.  I picture myself getting fit.  Worse case, I can write about it.

Last time I tried yoga was a couple of years ago when my fit sister Jean tried to show me the basics.  I think I gave up when I couldn’t get into some kind of uncomfortably twisted position with the word DOG in it.

I reschedule my dentist appointment (for my crown) so that I don’t miss any more meetings  (I've already missed the first two).  I’m psyched, as I picture myself becoming more erect and fit.

The weather is cloudy; not the sunny fall day I envisioned for my first day of senior yoga.  I get to the park a few minutes early, and ask a local park worker where the yoga class is (leaving out the part about it being for seniors).  He directs me to a woman, about my age, who is waiting on a park bench nearby.  Soon, a few others show up, seven in all.  Except for one woman in a beautiful wool sweater and red-rouged cheeks and another in a wheel chair who looks to be close to 90 (bless her), everyone is about my age.  I expect a pony-tailed limber twenty-something to show up to teach.  Instead, Richard appears.  He’s stocky, kind of messy looking, and in his 50’s.  He would have been a great guest on that old show, I’ve Got A Secret.  No one would have chosen him as a stockbroker moonlighting as a yoga instructor.  Turns out Richard is fantastic.

The class is a stretch (no pun intended).  Richard doesn’t pander to our ages.  Even when it starts to rain, no one leaves.  I plan to return on Thursday.