Minute zero: I’m so nervous. That guy looks like he’ll be able to hold a plank for 10 minutes. And have you seen the rippling arm muscles on the chick next to me?
Minute Five: Look at me! I’m totally doing it! Hanging in there! Plus this stretching feels so good.
Minute Ten: Ow ow ow. But it’s good for me. And I’m right in there with the rest of the class. Hey world, check me out!
Minute Twenty: WHY do I do this to myself? I hate yoga. Why am I even here? Everything hurts. You want me to do WHAT with my WHAT now? AS IF.
Minute Thirty: I hate my instructor. She is evil incarnate. I bet she trained in a prison. I’m totally going to egg her car on the way out.
Minute Forty: Dear LORD, how many more minutes? How much longer? I’m going to die. Screw child’s pose, I’m moving right on to fetal position whimpering.
Minute Fifty: Hey, almost there. And you know what? I feel okay. My hips are freer. I may actually be stretchier.
Minute Fifty-Five: Ah, corpse pose. Sooooo good. I feel tingly all over. Yoga is awesome.
Minute Sixty: Head rush. But in a good way. I may come back next week. MAYBE.