Saturday, 21 November 2009

AcroYoga – leave your dignity at the door


Techincally, AcroYoga isn’t really yoga in the traditional sense and is subject to the same kind of scrutiny as Bikram Yoga. You certainly won’t find it in any of the classical texts and, as far as I’m aware, it wasn’t practiced by any of the ancient sages and saints. Based on a combination of Hatha Yoga, Thai Massage and Acrobatics, AcroYoga will probably be fashionable for a while and teach you a couple of cool circus tricks, but whether it has longevity remains to be seen.

Out of curiosity I decide to try out a class at my local gym. At the end of an otherwise ordinary class we were asked to partner up and then take part in a series of postures, using the weight or form of one another to balance or stretch out in ways that are not easily attainable going solo.

As the class is fun, social and fantastic for building strength super fast, I like it enough to go again. Fast forward a couple of weeks though and I find I have been befriended by an extremely eager, overweight, smarty pants man who, despite the mismatch in our size, always makes a beeline for working with me. He doesn’t notice my reluctance, the way I edge around the room or pretend to be pre-occupied with the water cooler whenever its time to team up.

For a while it’s ok and I’m impressed that I have the strength to base this guy. But it begins to get out of hand when he starts waddling after me week after week, in flip flops that appear to be far to big for his feet, and suggests we ‘practice together’ - just the two of us *wink*. I manage to fend him off, but he really doesn’t seem to get the message. I begin to leave the class early, but somehow he tracks me down. I even hear him coming with the slap, shuffle, slap of his flip flops, but do not seem to be able to outrun him.

It all gets a little too much when he becomes increasingly demanding on the mat (typical man) and during a particularly aggressive partnering session, he begins tossing me around like a rag doll. This is when I realise that to fully take advantage of AcroYoga you need to a) wear extremely supportive yoga clothes, b) be prepared to find yourself in some pretty intimate positions and c) leave your dignity at the door.

It all happens very quickly. We’re practicing ‘flying’ (with me on top) when I realise that my sports bra is not strictly doing what is says on the tin. I am in very real danger of exposing myself. Both my hands are locked behind my back in the posture and they’re helping me to balance. If I move it’s likely I will fall straight off my pedestal and onto his face. My only other option is to stay put, at high risk.

Before I have time to make a decision, he’s moving me into ‘folded leaf.’ This is when, from the locus-like position on the base’s braced legs, you bend at the waist and your torso drops so it is parallel to their legs. The trouble is if you’re not matched in height the flyer ends up with their head in the bases crotch, which is exactly what happened here. So there I am, scrambling around desperately trying not to let my face drop into this mans manhood, rescue my stray boob and not fall on my face (or his). Fortunately, I somehow manage to squirm out of the position and disaster is averted. But, I vow to myself that this will be my last ever AcroYoga class. There is just 10 more minutes to go, before I can leave. “What more can go wrong?” I reason to myself.
A lot it seems. The next posture was the one where person A gets into bridge pose and person B puts their head between A’s legs in order to perform a headstand. I am seriously not convinced about this. I’m not keen on putting my head between this mans legs (I’ve only just narrowly avoided being in a position that is only suitable for more romantic settings), but I’m even less thrilled about him putting his between mine! Everyone else is doing it and I don’t want to look like a loser so, down I go. Using the breath to lift myself into a headstand, I take a big inhale. Oh My God, it smells of poo!!! Actual poo!! Not fart, but proper bum cheese.

The remaining 9 minutes of this class are too traumatic to speak of, ever. However, to conclude this post my advice to you would be if you want to experiment with AcroYoga, please, please, please take someone with you – preferably a friend or someone you like!

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