I think I can … I guess …. I suppose I can. It is sorta humorous (I like humor) to see that some people actually think that yoga is a sport. Maybe it is, maybe not. It almost seems like chess being considered a sport. No, that is pretty much stretching it it a bit (get it “stretching it”–YOGA and STRETCHING?) It is as clear as the nose on your face, I couldn’t paint it…well–I can’t paint to save my life. I love it all, but I can’t do any of it, well, put it this way, I couldn’t make a living from it. No extra cash coming this way for all my yoga training. Yes, I am a trained yogaite. Wait, somehow that doesn’t sound quite right. I don’t want to say. “Yogi Master,” because…because it sounds too much like…uh… “Yogi the Bear”, and after all I do want to retain a bit of seriousness, here. But, I really did practice yoga for a few years. A girl; some girl from Florida, practically out of a Carl Hiasson novel turned me on to some of the finer things in life and we picked up at some two-fer-one set of lessons by a local Tai Chi Master. I knew that the Florida Tai Chi lady was real, she had a diploma, (some sort of legal certification?), and a cobra, or maybe it was a boa constrictor. I don’t like snakes. Oh, the yoga teacher also had a tattoo, just like the one Honey Boo Boo has now! I am not real limber either. The Yoga, which had now turned into Tai Chi had me going every which way but loose. I don’t think I was ever loose. A couple of years ago, I started up Kung Fu so I could participate in the Boston Chinese parade. I did. After the parade, a few months later, the Chinese KungFu guy gave me a pat on the back (I already had my own set of numb chucks) and sent me on to his brother’s Yoga studio (free of charge!). I RAN, not walked, all the way there. After all, this post is supposed to be about running or something like that, eh?
I think I can … I guess … Yogi the Bear