Stretch Much

Normally I get to be the main presenter at the company functions. I have been bestowed this honor with a lot of companies because I work humor into my routine, and I actually laugh at the comedians who speak of doing twenty minutes of comedy and explaining how difficult it is.

My usual training sessions are anywhere from 4-8 hours long, and believe me, we laugh a lot.

"Warm up the crowd for me," the president of the company the other day said.

"What do you want?" I asked.

"Tell some jokes," he answered.

"I don't work clean," I said.

"I don't care," he answered.

I told three straight jokes that my Dad used to tell to such a gathering. One laugh was louder than the next. I turned back to the president of the company.

"You're a freaking beauty," he said.

Yet the session yesterday was interesting for one other reason. There was a break in between my routines and a Yoga instructor took the floor. Actually, there were a couple of them. A man about my age, and a female, in shape instructor who garnered all of the attention from the construction guys.

I stood off to the side until the male instructor sauntered over and told me that perhaps I'd benefit from doing the exercises.

"Is that a fat remark?" I asked.

"No! No! Yoga is beneficial to help get rid of stress. It's a healthy thing to stretch your muscles out."

Truth be told, I was not feeling so great. I'd driven 2 hours to get to the class by 7:30 a.m. My back felt like a slab of iron, and of course, there was the hip and leg and ah hell...you've heard this before.

But I started stretching along.

As luck might have it I was positioned next to a young girl who was working with the female trainer. It wasn't a bad spot as the rest of the room was filled with guys who look like me.

We closed our eyes at one point and worked on our breathing. The male trainer told us to let our breath go, to relax, to forget our troubles, to feel our bodies.

It was working. I was so relaxed that I thought that I might fall asleep right there in the room. I had blocked out all sights and sounds, and I was really truly getting to a peaceful place.

"Take time out of your day to train yourself to do this," he said. "You will feel better mentally, and physically. Get in touch with your zen."

Yet just as I was about to drift off, they asked us to lie down on mats on the floor.

That's when I bowed out.

I sat in a chair just off the area and as they continued to stretch, I closed my eyes and worked on my breathing. I was just about back to that peaceful place when one of the big, burly construction guys grabbed my shoulder. When my eyes jutted open I was in direct line to see the young female trainer on her knees working to stretch the right leg of the female participant.

"Me likey Yoda," the construction guy whispered in my ear, and we both laughed, spoiling the quiet all around us.

As we headed back to finish up the rest of the training session the construction guy caught up with me on the stairs.

"It's Yoga, not Yoda," I said as we walked away.

"I don't care what the hell they call it," he said. "I'm joining a class."

Serenity now.