Page 77 of Ripped & Shipped
I laugh. Again. It’s forced. What the heck is wrong with me?
I toe off my shoes and leave them by her front door. Ella Mae did tell me to wear something comfortable. Now I know why.
I join Ella Mae in the front room. She pushes a button on a remote she’s holding, and some sort of music that sounds like an orchestra is slowly warming up comes through a bluetooth speaker. There’s a guy in the background of the soundtrack on a didgeridoo playing the longest notes ever in the history of music. Dude’s got breath control, that’s for sure. Ocean noises and birds mix in with this cacophony of sounds.
“Here’s your mat,” Ella Mae says.
Two mats are on the ground side by side. She’s got a couple towels on a loveseat near the window, and bottled waters on the side table.
“I’m actually more of a weightlifter. Or a runner. Or a cyclist. I’m not sure yoga’s my thing.”
“You’ll be fine. Let’s start with some warming up,” Ella Mae says, completely ignoring my protests.
“My phone is there.” She points to a spot across the room where her phone is on this tripod. “So look at it when you can. Or look at me. Those shots will be good too. And mostly, just relax and have fun. Yoga’s good for you. You may surprise yourself and keep coming back for more.”
I nod, biting back the words,not likely.
Ella Mae stands at the front of her mat.
“Come on up here, Big Boy.”
I’m not blushing. I’m sure it’s nerves, or maybe my testosterone is surging.
I step up to the front of the mat. Ella Mae clicks the remote in her hand when I look over at her.
“What was that?” I ask.
“The remote links to my phone for photos. I can shoot pics without having to fiddle with the cell itself.”
“Oh. Huh.”
She continues on, more focused and calm than I’ve ever seen her. It’s a different side to her—one I knew was there. I’ve just never seen her so uninhibited and open.
“So, we’re going to start with Mountain pose.”
“Mountain pose?” I repeat.
“Yep.”
I picture myself bending over to form the shape of a mountain, but instead Ella Mae walks me through standing straight, being aware of what she calls the four corners of my feet. Then she tells me to press out through my feet like I’m trying to rip the yoga mat apart with the strength radiating down through my legs.
“Only, don’t rip it. A big guy like you could probably tear through yoga mats all day long.”
She smiles over at me. Again. I do not blush. I just focus on not tearing her mat and keeping my eyes on her face. That’s all I can handle at this point. I’m multitasking like a boss. Eyes on her face. Don’t rip the mat.
The camera remote clicks.
“We’re basically just standing,” I point out.
She giggles. “It’s more than that, Soldier. You’re focusing on body awareness.”
She puts her hands like fists in front of her hips. “Focus here. On your pelvis. And then lengthen your spine gently. Feel where your feet are. Feel the earth beneath you. You don’t usually do that when you stand around with your bros, do you? Or just hanging out doing whatever it is you do with your time. Yoga is about awareness.”
I take her seriously, copying her stance, and some of my nervousness seems to drift away.
“Now slowly bring your arms into a superhero pose. This one should be easy for you.”
“Because I’m a superhero?” I joke.
