Yoga

My physical therapist let me go back to yoga at the end of February, well before I could go back to capoeira - no surprise there, as you can go about doing what you do without anyone kicking at you. Of course, I'm still building up my strength to what it was before.

Mostly, I've been going to Magi and Jen's classes at Life in Motion. They are both very keen on correct form, which is exactly what I need. Today I went to a class at another studio - no names mentioned, since it's a studio and a teacher I like - and realized I wasn't ready for their brand of yoga yet. That doesn't mean crazy twists and inversions or even a thousand chatarangas; their style is very much "flow free and get loose," and my body still needs a lot of reminding to do things the right way.

My practice is somewhat changed, however, just as my capoeira practice has changed. For one thing, I use blocks more. I'm somewhat anti-prop (don't take me to an Iyengar class), partially because fussing around with them is a hassle but also because I often don't need them, so I would prefer to think I never need them. But since I'm going to look wimpy anyway, why be proud? My pigeon isn't going to get any more open if I don't get my shin parallel to the mat, and my shin doesn't get parallel to the mat without something under my thigh.

I have also only now figured out what child's pose is for. Oh sure, it's "a good place to rest" when the flow is too much. This is not news. But it's also a stretch for some particular muscles around the shoulder, which I didn't realize until my physical therapist gave it to me as homework. (Muscles that get very tight on me and have since long before my shoulder pain began.) Eleven years I've been doing this, and I had no idea.

It doesn't get much more basic than realizing you've been doing child's pose wrong.

Ignore this if you're bored of my shoulder

For a long time, I felt as if I wasn't making any progress with my shoulder, but the last two months or so have seen noticeable progress.

In January enough range of motion back that I was able to do more than walking and pilates, so I bought a class card for the Alvin Ailey extension. I tried a couple of West African dance classes, but while my shoulder held up, I found the choreography too difficult for an absolute beginner. If I was seeking out a new hobby, it would have been worth persisting through the frustration, but since I was only looking for a stopgap, I didn't. The classes were a good aerobic workout, though, and the teachers are hampered by only working with two class levels, which tends to force the beginner class to greater difficulty.

I also went to the extension's Absolute Beginner ballet class - which, unlike many dance classes, is actually pitched to beginners. (I get that teaching absolute novices can be dull, and it is difficult if said novices include people who have never danced before as well as those who are professionals in other dance forms, but that doesn't change the fact that many beginner classes are incredibly challenging for students who aren't used to following choreography.) Finis Jhung, the instructor, does a great job with this class, with a strong emphasis on correct form. Many adult classes (not just in ballet) tend toward rushing into pretty moves - after all, they'll never be professionals, so who cares if their form is off? But doing things right is the key to getting those harder moves, and to not hurting your adult body, which doesn't rebound as fast.

(Frankly, his approach is similar to what I like about Capoeira Angola Quintal; it's more important to execute a basic movement correctly and well than to do some impressive ooh-ah flip/jump/spin.)

Monday, I noticed that I was better able to balance in eleve, so huzzah, it was working! Another recent milestone - being able to wear a backpack. And then, the most exciting - permission to return to yoga.

So Tuesday I went to a basic vinyasa class with a teacher I know and like, Magi Pierce at Life in Motion. It was exactly the right class; I could do most everything and modify what I couldn't. She doesn't push people but focuses on technique as well as the "why" of poses. I left class very happy to be back.

But oh man, after ballet, then yoga, then PT today, I am sore.

Spinning

The ongoing saga of my shoulder troubles is heading towards a climax with arthroscopic surgery next month. In the meantime, I've been getting sadly out of shape, as capoeira and yoga are both off-limits to me: While there are individual moves I can do, I can't participate in a class. Hiking is still possible, but being a weekend warrior isn't enough.

I don't want to commit to joining a gym, since I have no intention of staying for a year, and taking up a new activity involves a steep learning curve and not enough vigorous exercise. I've been walking some, but that's low-key compared to two hours of capoeira, as is Pilates.

I finally found an activity I can do that burns a lot of calories, keeps muscles strong, and doesn't involve my shoulder - spin class. Never mind that I don't really like it. (After all, people are perfectly capable of riding an exercise bike on their own; it's just too damn boring to do it unless someone is threatening you.) I can do it until my arm is sufficiently recovered to take on more interesting exercise, and at least that way I won't be coming back from zero.

Injured!

My left arm had been hurting ever since my flu shot, but it got particularly painful after one acrobatic capoeira class. As a side effect, the muscles all around my shoulder blade seized up in a death grip. I finally gave in and went to the doctor, who sent me off to physical therapy.

It turns out I suffer from a weak serratus muscle (the muscle that stabilizes the shoulder blade) and a small impingement in the rotator cuff. So the therapist has me on home exercises as well as in-office visits. She also has me off of any exercise that puts my weight in my hands, or that hurts.

This means no yoga class (there are plenty of moves I can do at home, but a class will have too many poses that rest on the arms) and highly modified capoeira classes. No cartwheels, no kicks or escapes that put my weight on my arms. I do cheat a little occasionally and put my weight on my good arm, though. This means I have to stick to the easier classes, as the more advanced classes get into too many sequences that use the arms or outright acrobatics.

I hate hate hate being injured and not being able to do things, especially when they are things my body is capable of, and even more when they don't hurt, such as queda de rins - I don't have pain on bent arms. I feel like, by the time I recover, I will have lost so much strength. If I weren't in the thick of final exams, there would be lots of hiking to at least get out my energy.

I'm not a fool. I try to be a good patient, because I don't want to get hurt worse. And I'm relearning how to use my shoulder blades (who knew you could use them wrong?)

Maybe at least I can improve my armada during this period?

More and faster

A staple of the movie news is "star beefs up workouts for movie role." In this story, for example, one actor worked out eight hours a day for ten weeks. The "easiest" part of those eight hours was two hours of choreography.

I have no idea how people do things like that. Not that working eight hours a day is impossible; it's just … going from working out an hour or two a day to eight? I mean, I know movie stars stay in shape as part of their job, but I assume they don't spend their whole day doing it.

Whenever I ramp up my workouts, my body feels it and takes a while to adjust. (Like, you know, 99% of people.) When I started capoeira, for example, I blogged about how I went to yoga and was unable to do a single chaturanga. When I joined Quintal, I started going to three classes a week. Previously, I had been doing two, and while the new classes were shorter, they were much more intense. I remember drinking what felt like gallons of water in my first few classes. A couple of months ago, I switched to an unlimited plan, and now I go to five-six classes a week. My body is still adjusting.

Friday night I went to our roda, although I didn't play much at all. I told Tarugo that I might come to his Saturday class, although it would depend how physical my volunteer morning at Van Cortlandt was. Turned out it wasn't very, so I went to his class, but as I told him, "I'm tired and sore and probably shouldn't be here." Luckily, we spent the class working our backs and arms, and it was my legs that were already shot. Sunday, I found I couldn't do side plank on the left in yoga. (Monday is my rest day … thank goodness.)

I know one struggle for me is getting enough protein, and maybe that makes a difference in recovery time, but really, I don't think what I am experiencing is that different from most people. (Perhaps, like a movie star, I should have a personal chef.) But I have this impatience - I want to get better faster! and my body is putting the reality check on it. If worked out eight hours a day, I'd get stronger at first - then I'd get injured. No thanks!

Yet, progress happens. I remember the first time I was able to get from a wide-legged forward fold to tripod headstand in yoga. It happened a few months before leaving Nashville, so let's say almost two years ago. I was super-excited. Just yesterday I realized I was able to control my descent enough to set my feet down silently when coming back out. It's not the dramatic part of the move, but it's just as important, and it means I have a kind of core control I didn't have before. That control has been coming along slowly and incrementally, but that moment of breakthrough is always something.

Yoga studio: Laughing Lotus

Laughing Lotus is a studio I'd been meaning to try for a while, so I finally bought a three-class pass. That means that my comments below are based on a very small subset of classes, and I can't comment on most of the teachers. However, I am sure I will be back.

First off: It's a very owner-driven studio. They actually have two studios, the other being in San Francisco, and both of the owners still teach and are very visible.* The studio reflects their style. I know at least one yogi that would hate it, as it's definitely an American take on things. If you like a meditative, traditional, music-free class, this definitely isn't the studio you are looking for.

The space itself looks as if it was decorated by the love child of Betsey Johnson and Ganesh. (It advertises that it has the world's only glitter bar.) While your taste may vary, from a practical perspective the space works well for yoga - hardwood floors, lots of light.

One of the classes I went to was fine, but nothing worth writing home about. The other two were taught by Dana Flynn, one of the owners. She has the kind of oversized personality that makes most of the people she meets want to sleep with her, be her, or follow her around Phish-style. Both classes were her Sunday Revival/Gospel Flow.

Despite the name, there isn't much gospel music; it's upbeat pop, mostly. (Think "Walk This Way" and "Dance Hall Days.") The class is a nonstop flow until the very end, and the focus is very definitely on moving rather than alignment. I don't know if this is true of all of Laughing Lotus's classes. If it is, I wouldn't want it to be my sole studio. But the class is what it aims to be: uplifting. I wouldn't be entirely shocked if someone started speaking in tongues in the middle of class one day.

The class is billed as a level 2 (of 3), and it includes quite a few optional arm balances, but most of the poses are less notable for their innate difficulty than for being strung together into fast-moving sequences.

If you like to use the words "yoga" and "party" in the same sentence, you'd probably enjoy Laughing Lotus.

*I'm working on a theory of yoga studios that divides them into owner-driven, guru-driven, and investor-driven.

Yoga to the People

Yoga to the People has, of all the places I've taken classes, most closely approximated the mythical New York yoga class I heard so much about - i.e., students packed mat-to-mat. While we weren't actually touching, it was close.

The reason for this undoubtedly is that their classes are donation-based. Additionally, this was at their main location in the East Village, which is the sort of neighborhood that probably screens out non-yogis at the borders.

My feelings on the class were mixed. The teacher seemed competent enough, putting together a good flow without any crazy moves, but a class of 50-odd students means no adjustments. The students varied wildly in their skill level; frankly, I was afraid some of them would develop injuries if they kept doing yoga without professional intervention on their form, which it was clear this class would not provide.

Students is accurate, too, as the vast majority of the class was NYU undergrads, and I felt old in comparison.

This isn't a studio I would regularly frequent, but the price can't be beat, so it's worth remembering for when the budget is tight.

Yoga in NYC: Isn't Sonic a burger joint?

Not long after I moved to NYC, a friend pointed me to a clever video posted by a New York studio. It was amusing enough to get me to check the studio website. It was pretty solid, aside from the advertising for their teacher training, which seemed to promise riches to anyone certified. It's true, yoga can make you wealthy - if your name is Bikram.

Fast-forward to a month ago, when Living Social offered a deal at Sonic, $30 for a month of unlimited yoga. Even though I was satisfied with my current studio, my pocket liked that number, so I bought the deal.

Sonic offers, at last count, 50 classes a week. A small number of these are meditation or introductory courses. Most courses are hatha or flow, ranging in difficulty from 1 (introductory) to 3 (advanced). I had to extrapolate the 3; in fact, there are only two 2/3 courses. The labeling of the classes is misleading; all of the classes include advanced poses such as inversions. I found little correlation between the label and how hard the class was. Even at a "fundamentals" class, which did a lot of prep and breaking down headstand, crow pose was a part of the flow.

Under "things that trigger my irrational prejudices" I should note that the studio is guilty of Rachael Ray-style yoga-speak: The descriptions of these classes tend to use words like "yummy," "delicious,", and "juicy." Excuse me while I go eat the plums in your icebox …

… Where was I? Oh, yes. Sonic's classes. "Yummy" is for food. Not yoga.

On the plus side, the instructors give lots of adjustments. The teacher training program is a help here, because some classes feature a second student teacher aiding in adjustments. Also a plus is that Sonic has a definite sense of community; students seem to know each other and teachers are generally friendly.

Overall, I didn't like the direction of the studio, though. I felt the classes I attended pushed students into advanced poses - the kind that are showy (like handstand) rather than those that take practiced flexibility (like lotus) - and then into teacher training. (I found myself wondering where all these teachers could possibly work.) I actually would recommend against beginners taking class here; if you're an experienced yogi, Sonic will give you a good workout, and I wouldn't presume my reaction to the studio's vibe would be yours.

Loose threads

On working toward your goals.

What are you looking forward to reading this year?

A great article about what it means to be categorized in a particular genre, which was obviously on my mind in my previous post. (Only point I might pick at: "If you enjoyed "Visit From the Good Squad," you might like to read more about the music scene in America in the 90s." Good lord, that's the last thing I want to read anything about.)

Typewriters and India.

Professors doing yoga.

Yoga at LiM, not to be confused with LIM College

I first heard about Life in Motion when I my broker showed me the apartment I ended up renting. The studio is actually closer than the nearest subway station, and she said it was pretty good. However, the Yelp reviews discouraged me from even trying it. It is owned by a traditional gym, and the reviewers complained about exercise bikes and dirty floors. (Unlike other studios owned by gyms, such as Pure Yoga, however, it doesn't require membership.) I dismissed LiM entirely. Then at the holidays I missed my flight home and was stuck in the city an extra day, literally the day after my Dharma Mittra pass expired. I figured I might as well take advantage of their $5 first-class price.

I'll start with the bad, right up front: The floors are dirty. I don't usually feel an urge to mop things, but LiM makes me feel like a housewife in a cleaning product commercial. You know, before she discovers the awesome new product.

Then there's the neutral: The website could use work; it is totally not up to date with profiles of the teachers, for example. The studio itself is focused on running a few types of classes, nothing exotic, with no stars and few workshops. Classes are back-to-back, so there's no lingering or chatting.

And the good? The space is decent, especially the larger of the two studios - lots of windows. (And not carpeted, yay!) The prices are extremely reasonable - $11/class with a class card (there are no monthly rates), which is cheap even for places outside of New York. Finally, the location is obviously swell for me - no 45-minute subway journeys, no hauling yoga clothes and mat to work.

The best part, though, is the teachers. I've only tried their open-level vinyasa classes, but all the teachers I've tried have led vigorous, flowing asana classes with plenty of corrections. I particularly like Magi's Wednesday night class.

In sum? This is a studio I can go to on a regular basis for my everyday yoga needs. There are still a couple of "star" studios in town I want to check out, like Katonah and Laughing Lotus (especially their Friday night class), but not having to spend as much time on the subway as I do in class is a serious enough bonus to make this my "home" studio.

Dharma Mittra, final thoughts

I've spent the last three months doing yoga at Dharma Mittra, which I gave a preliminary review to earlier. Now, after three months, I can give it a more final assessment.

Most of the studios I've practiced at have been fairly eclectic in approach. Because Dharma's studio is guru-driven, the other teachers don't have much in the way of individual styles. That's not to say they are interchangeable - there is one, for no good reason, that I find annoying, and some are more advanced in their own practice than others - but there isn't a noticeable difference in their sequencing, whether they like to chant or read inspirational quotes, or whether they demo or adjust.

The classes are very sequenced, although not as much as strict ashtanga. They do have a good mix of poses, generally held for a while, and I like that they encourage everyone to work on inversions such as headstand and scorpion, even in level II classes. (Classes are levels I-IV, but they offer a lot more at the lower two levels.) This sequencing means you can make real progress on poses if you're going regularly. Only a few weeks in, I got scorpion for the first time and was making huge progress on forearm balances. The downside is that some poses get left out; I haven't done eagle in three months.

Now, one thing you may know about me is that I'm not a very spiritual person. You know how people say they are "spiritual but not religious"? You could say I am religious but not spiritual. OK, I jest a little, but the studio is far more spiritual than I am. They unironically capitalize more Abstract Concepts than a smartass like myself can fully get behind. I am comfortable in studios that emphasize the mental and/or spiritual benefits of yoga, rather than just the physical, but Dharma Mittra believes things I don't, and they are important to embracing his practice fully, I think.

In other words, I already find myself challenged by the notion of having a capoeira "mestre"; having a guru is too much for me.

Ultimately, I think it's a good studio, and if, for example, you were going to visit New York for a yoga tour, you'd be remiss to leave it out. (I'd still like to try his two-hour master practice myself.) But it's not going to be my yoga home.

Getting from signifier to signified

It was a lesson I should have learned when my IT was giving me issues: The location of pain isn't necessarily the source of it.

And my first clue should have been my teachers telling me that I "ought" to be able to do things that I was finding impossible, like navasana or tucking up into handstand. I was strong enough, they said; it must be mind over matter.

No, the first clue was that my lower back starting hurting.

The second clue should have been that the recommended remedies, such as forward folds, didn't do anything for relief. Neither did "tucking my pelvis" to take the arch out of my back.

At least I picked up on one clue: My slouchy posture was indicative of … something.

It wasn't until I randomly did a side stretch one day and found it to be a near-miracle cure that I realized that my lower back wasn't actually the problem. Then there was "pull up in your chest," which did a lot more for my posture than any amount of tucking.

I still don't know their name. Is it my obliques? My intercostals? My lats? Does it matter? I just know that I'm retraining a set of muscles that have somehow gone to sleep on me.

They're improving. They still have a long way to go; I still can't tuck up into handstand. But the difference is amazing - even if the amount of muscle gained is small, knowing where to focus my efforts has improved my handstand notably. It's also helped with other things along the way. The other day, I managed to get into lotus while in tripod headstand. It wasn't elegant, but doing it without falling over should earn me a cookie anyway.

It's exciting to have a breakthrough like that, even though I think, "Why didn't I know this ages ago?" Also exciting: No back pain.

Yoga in NYC: On Dharma Mittra, preliminary

It's only a month into my three-month trial, so I hesitate to draw any firm conclusions as to whether or not it's for me, but I can still tell you a little bit about the studio.

Dharma Mittra actually has two locations. The West location is newer and it's where Dharma himself teaches. However, it's almost all meditation and other mental classes; the physical classes are mostly over at the older East studio. The studio has a very comfortable feel. It's not modern or sleek; instead, it resembles someone's den, or a summer cabin that has never been interior decorated in the proper sense; things have simply accumulated over the years. (The place it's most like is Joao Grande's academy, but you likely haven't been there.)

The only thing I don't like about the space is that the practice area is carpeted. It's low-pile, but I've noticed it still affects my balance, as I'm used to hardwood.

The interpersonal dynamic at the studio is a little different. Most places, students chat before class (or at least an "in" clique does). Here, they actively encourage silence. The teachers don't even make a particular effort to introduce themselves to new students before class or ask about injuries. This doesn't prevent a community from forming, as Dharma's students seem to be very loyal. In only my second class, I recognized several folks from my first.

And one interesting thing about the students - when is the last time you went to a yoga class, particularly an advanced one, and didn't see any tattoos? It took me most of my first class to put my finger on what felt so strange, but there it was. This is not a hipster haven. What you will find is a lot of men - nearly half the students in many classes - which is an anomaly.

I haven't had the chance yet to take class with Dharma Mittra; the three-month membership includes three classes at Dharma West, which I definitely plan to take advantage of. And to file under "useless trivia" - he is Brazilian, making this the second of the three studios I've tried that have Brazilian owners.

Commute time

Man, I spend a lot of time on the subway.

It's about a half hour to work in the morning - that's not bad. By comparison, it took me half that time to get to campus in Nashville, only because I went at off hours. During rush hour, it would have been close to a half hour.

But in Nashville, yoga was just a few blocks from campus, and capoeira was about 20 minutes away.

Here, it takes me about 20 minutes to get from work to get to yoga. That's not too outrageous. Getting to capoeira from work, though, is close to an hour, and so is getting to my handstand class. (I have to take four trains from Midtown to Brooklyn to get to handstands. Four!)

So here is a story problem for you: If it takes Turducken 30 minutes to get from home to work, and at least 45 minutes to get from work to capoeira, how long does it take her to get from capoeira back home? Does it change your answer if you know that, geometrically, the three points are the vertices of a right triangle, making the trip home the hypotenuse as the eagle flies? Does it further change your answer if you realize that she is not an eagle, and, because of where the subway lines run, she actually has to go farther out of her way to get home?

The answer: Home-work-capoeira is 75 minutes or so. Capoeira-home covers more miles and takes 45 minutes. This is why I always travel with a book.

Theoretically, I could move close to work. But dropping that commute wouldn't make up for living in Midtown. Or I could stop going to capoeira and handstands, but despite the diversity of the city, there are no perfect substitutes (in the economic sense of the term) for either.

I don't particularly mind the commute, since I can read, except for the handstand one - all that train changing is seriously annoying. However, people seem to be impressed. "You go all the way to Astoria for capoeira?" Seriously, I don't think they'd be any more impressed if I actually went down to Rio every Saturday. (You know, that would only take five hours via Concorde...)

The thing is, my commute time adds up to about two hours on days I go to work and capoeira. The people who are impressed live outside the city and spend an hour each way just going home-work. You do the math.

Om and om

The second place I gave a shot was Om Factory - I was enticed by their $100 for a month of yoga deal. The location is also not inconvenient, as it's in the vicinity of Times Square, and thus easy to get to after work.

The space itself is very nice; they have three studios, one dedicated to aerial. The teachers are all highly competent, and I actually quite like the Forrest Yoga class. Long-term, though, it's not the studio for me.

First, they have a lot of fusion classes. Aerial yoga. Acroyoga. Fight Club (which is actually a mash-up, strictly speaking, and not fusion - you do some yoga, then you do some kickboxing, with no integration.*) These could be interesting, but they all seem to run at strictly a beginner level. I went to an open level aerial class and quickly realized my (limited) experience back in Nashville meant I should be in the intermediate class - which as of September they're no longer offering. The acro class doesn't build sequentially, which makes sense as there are few regular students. As a result, in all these fusion classes we spend as much time listening to instruction as doing. I don't want every class to be a workshop; I want to flow!

Second, most of the their vinyasa classes are only an hour. I found two that were an hour fifteen. One was Mike's Monday night class. While I was only able to make it once, I highly recommend it. The other class I tried, I felt as if we weren't getting enough adjustments.

Fact is, between the fusion classes and the one-hour classes, I'm simply not getting enough exercise at Om. It's not burning calories. And, more importantly, the lack of flow means I'm not mentally getting out of yoga what I need. Right now, I need all the sanity I can get.

So the next place I'm going to try comes highly recommended. They are offering special deals for either a month or three, and I need to decide if I want to commit to three months at a place I've never been before.

* This was a good class, but I quickly realized that going to it was confusing me the same way studying Portuguese is confusing my Spanish. One martial art at a time ...

On Forrest Yoga

I hate Forrest Yoga.

Let's back up a minute. Recently one of my friends was trying to convince me that I should add Iyengar to my practice, and I told him no, I hated it. Too much fussing around with props - it's so slow and yet it's not meditative - and there's no reason you can't get alignment in a faster-paced class, like anusara. Still, I gave it another shot and found that I still didn't like Iyengar. At. All.

So when I signed up for a cheap month at Om Factory, I went to a Forrest class without knowing what I was getting into. I knew it was created by Ana Forrest and it went on a little bit too much about spirituality for my taste. If I had known more, I never would have bothered going. In fact, if I had read that people cried, I probably would have moved to Jersey just to be safe.

For a class that is slow-paced, doesn't contain a lot of advanced poses, and is more static than flowing, Forrest is incredibly hard. Iyengar bores me; in Forrest, I wonder when the suffering is going to end. (For the record, I've seen some descriptions of Forrest as "vinyasa-style," but that does not mesh at all with my experience. You don't flow between most poses, and you hold every pose for many breaths.) It's more meditative than Iyengar, too - at least, there's room for some oms between the ows.

Lately, I've been having some discomfort in my low-low back, around my sacrum. While it hasn't stopped me from doing anything, it has bothered me. After all, I've always been of the arrogant opinion that anyone with back issues either had been in some kind of accident or just didn't take care of themselves, and I haven't been in an accident. When I told Emilia, Om's Forrest teacher, that a pose was bothering my back, she poked and prodded at me and then had me modify it - not to make the pain go away, but to start fixing the problem - and not just in that pose, but for the rest of the class. I'm afraid to tell her that my right ankle bothers me at times for fear she'll fix that, too.

In short, a Forrest class is an hour and a half of pure suffering. It's comprised of nearly everything I'm not looking for in a yoga class. Go back to crescent pose instead of warrior I? Embarrassing. Not even begin to bend backwards in camel because I can't keep my pubic bone on the wall when I do? LAME. I'd rather be doing vinyasa. I'd rather be reading. Honestly, I'd rather be cleaning the bathroom. I'd rather be cleaning someone else's bathroom. And yet I went home after my first class and immediately signed up for that class every week for the duration of my trial period, because my back already felt like I was holding it differently.

I hate Forrest because it takes almost nothing for me to break a sweat. I hate it because it shatters my illusions about how advanced a yogi I am. I hate it because I can't get away with any kind of shortcut. I hate that I come out of it more sore than after an ashtanga class. I hate that it's exactly what I need.

On not doing ashtanga

After the first ashtanga class I ever took, I went home and took a three-hour nap, and then my arms felt like useless t-rex arms for about a week. Or maybe two. But I like the discipline, as well as being able to compare your practice over time. Not that I could handle a strict diet of ashtanga, being one of those undisciplined Westerners used to having my monkey-mind catered to.

But here in Manhattan, what you get is a diet of strict ashtanga. Ashtanga studios are serious about it, and if you take ashtanga seriously there are a lot of rules to follow. All classes are mysore (that means, you better have memorized the sequence, and, uh, I have to admit I haven't. Not completely). They don't offer classes on moon days (look that one up yourself.) So maybe what I like is Gillian teaching ashtanga, which isn't quite the same thing as liking ashtanga.

Not that I'll be able to find out for sure. Literally every ashtanga studio in Manhattan, and there are a bunch, does it during the day. The morning classes run until past 8, and the very latest classes start before 5. Who is doing all this ashtanga? Is there another rule I didn't know about, one that requires you to be a bartender, student, or housewife? Even if I went to mysore at 6:30, and I am not a morning person, I might be done by 8, but then I'd still have to go home, shower, and go to work. That's not super-cool where I work, and I'm not even an accountant or something at a staid, 8-5, conservative firm.

It does seem that with half a dozen ashtanga studios in Manhattan alone, someone could cater to the 8-to-5 crowd. Maybe that's how I'll make my millions.

NY Loves Yoga, but I just want to be friends

Rant: What's with people on Yelp saying, "I've been doing yoga for six months, and only at this place, but I am confident it is the best yoga in the city"? Not that newbies can't have useful opinions ("The students were welcoming but their basics classes aren't basic enough"), but if you'd only ever eaten at one restaurant in your life, would you proclaim that it was the best ever?

Maybe you would. I saw a review for The Popover Cafe that complained that they'd never had a popover before, but the one they had there was far too eggy. Mayhaps they should have looked into what a popover was before trying one. End rant.

So, anyway, I'm looking for a studio here in Manhattan. My friends back in Nashville gave me some good recommendations, and of course there are about a million options here, so the task is a little daunting. (Especially if a studio has a ton of different teachers, "trying it" doesn't mean going to just one class.)

The first studio I tried was not mentioned to me by anyone, but it is conveniently located on the UWS. (It seems like all the suggested studios are downtown, which is a serious commute.) NY Loves Yoga is very new, although it rose from the ashes of another studio in the same location, which may be one reason its name didn't come up.

In its favor, the space is nice, and the studio isn't too crowded - none of the mat-to-mat stuff you hear about in the celebrity studios. In fact, the vibe and class size are similar to what you'd find back in Nashville. The owner is a really nice guy, too. Most of the teachers seem pretty good, making corrections, giving students individual attention, and acting like nice human beings.

The studio itself seems to have a heavy Iyengar influence - every class seems to ask you to grab several blankets, a couple of blocks, a strap, and maybe a bolster. Iyengar isn't really my thing, though. And I've found that most the classes are more beginner-oriented than I would like, even those labeled level 2-3 (out of 3 levels). I'm really a vinyasa girl, and most of their vinyasa classes are at lunch (which doesn't work with my teaching schedule) and only an hour long. What this means is that while I think this is a good studio, I don't think it's really my flavor; I like my yoga a little crazier. However, I would definitely recommend it to folks as a good studio that offers quality yoga without hassles.

Next up? A studio offering $100 for a month of all-you-can-eat yoga. I don't think they know yet what a fiscal disaster that's going to be for them.

Summer

Although unprecedented prosperity will be mine in the near future, in the short term funds are tight. I don't want to spend any of my savings - in fact, I want to increase them, as moving to Manhattan is a pricy prospect - and my pay for the next couple of months will be low.

(There are a couple of potential things I could pick up this summer, but you surely know the proverb about counting chickens.)

So one thing I'm doing to save a bit of cash is trying to get to the end of the month without paying for any more yoga classes. That's two weeks, so it's about $40 I'd save, which maybe isn't much, but every bit counts, and anyway, I need an incentive to develop a home practice.

Today I kicked things off the easy way by going to a free class sponsored by Lululemon. It was at a studio I know with a teacher I didn't, and it wasn't as challenging as what I typically do, but that's typical for free classes. I'd like to see if I can practice every day, barring days I do serious hiking - no way I'm hiking 10 miles and then doing more than a stretch!

Upside down

One thing I've been working on in both yoga and capoeira is handstands and related movements and poses. That includes aus (cartwheels) in capoeira and headstands in yoga.

A secret: Cartwheels are actually easier than balancing upside down. That's because in a cartwheel, your arms aren't really supporting much of your weight: Most of the work is coming from momentum. You could probably do a cartwheel, although it might not be pretty - the biggest obstacle is mental.

Just a few years ago in yoga, I was terrified of handstands. I wouldn't even try them against the wall. (Just ask Gillian, my yoga teacher.) Now I've gotten over that, but I still can't hold a freestanding handstand.

The problem isn't really arm and shoulder strength, although I could probably use more of that. It's balance, and that comes from the rest of the body, particularly the core. So I've been working on a few things that build up control in those muscles.

One move I've just recently gotten down is getting up into tripod headstand from a wide-legged standing position. (You can see what I mean in the first half of this video.) It's much easier to get up into tripod if your legs are together than if they are spread apart. And I was surprised to find out that the difficulty for me was in the outer thighs, rather than my arms or tummy.

Not surprisingly, though, various forms of handstands are the best practice. So is simply kicking up into handstand (as opposed to going down from standing), because you have to learn the right amount of force to use. Not enough, and you don't make it into a handstand. Too much and the momentum carries you beyond a handstand into landing on the other side, hopefully painlessly. This isn't a problem when you're practicing against the wall, but it is an issue when you're in the roda.

I'm not there yet. There's a feeling in an inversion where you know that you are balanced - not only are you not falling over, but you feel lighter. I know this sensation from headstands. Only recently have I begun to have those moments in handstands as well. While, alas, they don't last very long, they are very encouraging, because I can tell I'm getting better - even if no one else can see it.

So my long-term goal right now is something I can't do yet but hope to be able to do by August: Get into a handstand (and hold it) from a cartwheel. You're using momentum, yes, but you have to stop that momentum with entirely different muscles since you are falling sideways, not forward.

In the meantime, I'm working on balancing in handstand period; on kicking up with my right leg as reliably as my left, and doing au fechado, a cartwheel with the legs hugged into the body.