Many of us are at a point where being still for too long can cause us harm. You went to sleep feeling fine, but getting up is a form of torture that can last for minutes, hours, or even days: aches, pains, twinges, loss of mobility, or range of motion. Getting old, as some like to say, sucks.
I disagree generally, but the achy creaking bit adds a dimension of difficulty that makes looking on the brighter side a bit of a challenge.
I was never really in organized sports, but there were a lot of unorganized sports. No helmets, pads, and whiny kids stayed away. If you got hurt, you sucked it up, rubbed dirt on it, and got back in the game.
Things in that world had sharp edges, were made of metal, had fewer “safety” warnings, and we did stuff in the name of fun that would mortify the modern helicopter parent.
What didn’t kill you, as they say, but there are side effects to living a fuller and active life. In the same way plenty of occupations require demands on our bodies that we exchange for income, knowing or not that a few decades from now we could wake up unable to lift an arm over our heads for three to five days until we work the kinks out.
None of that has slowed me down that much, but the desire to maintain range of motion, in particular, led me to try yoga. Nothing against yoga or anyone good at it or bad at it (like me); if you want low-impact motion assistance, it’s a good option. If you want more serious stretching, yoga can get you there, too.
But it’s pretentious stretching, and I don’t care if it is an ancient and well-regarded path to enlightenment. I’m a cheeseburger and beer guy. I like my coffee with coffee in it (some cream and sugar). Not simple, low maintenance.
Waitress: [to Martin:] Can I help you?
Martin: Coffee, black, and don’t put anything fancy in it.
Waitress: We have two special coffees. [Martin stares, bored] I’ll
surprise you. [leaves.]
Dunkin Donuts got fancy while making their name less fancy. It’s just Dunkin’s now. America runs on it, they say. But you can still order “coffee,” and you don’t need an education in the special argot of pretentious coffee drinking. Medium hot regular. Done.
There’s a company called Pretentious Coffee, and you probably don’t deserve it. Their words, not mine. They sell roasted coffee beans in what look like craft brew 4-paks. The names are Hints of Hubris, Single Origin Arrogance, and Artisanal Nihilism. They have embraced the attitude.
We founded Pretentious Coffee not because the world needed another coffee company—but because it needed one brave enough to admit what everyone else is pretending not to be: completely, unapologetically, absurdly pretentious.
Yoga is not like that at all. Its aims are lofty. A mastery of mind and body through imitating pretzels and bending spoons, where there is a spoon and it’s you. And it’s pretentious, but people love it, and even pay good money for the pleasure of being properly conducted in the practice. And for good or bad, it made yoga pants a fashion among women. Much like spandex in the 80s and Speedos across time, not everyone knows what they should not wear out of the house, but feel free to do you.
Baby goat yoga looks cute.
At my house, we have slobbering Labrador Yoga. This is where you bend yourself to avoid having your face licked after purposefully entering his “air space.” He is a tolerant master, but persistent, and he loves the pretentious mat. However, I’m not very good at his breathing exercises, and they make me feel like passing out.
Namaste.
