Sweat, blood, and tears

It's unfortunate to report that I am that guy in the beginner yoga class I started last week. I wanted to be the A+ student, the one who, without any previous training, is able to do amazing poses and be in total sync with my body and breathing. I wanted to be that favorite pupil to the instructors; the no-bother, no-worry student. But no...I'm none of those things. I'm the class SWEATER. After the first ten minutes of our Sun Salutation, I look like I've been hosed down by the NYC Fire Department. Seriously, I've never thought of myself as an overtly persperate kind of guy but something is happening because I'm simply drenched by the end of class...and everyone notices!

When I mentioned to the instructor who walked by to re-pose me in Downward Dog that I was sweating like a pig and sliding all over the mat, he very kindly let me know that was just my body getting rid of all the unhealthy toxins and it was natural. Toxins, what? I've been on the most healthy diet for the past six weeks and haven't put a scrap of crap in me since January and I'm detoxing from what, exactly? So I'm not liking the detox line, but I appreciated him not saying how gross I was.

This week was even worse then last week though I did manage to bring a towel with me that I used frequently. My Downward Dog is a bit better but my Warrior 1 needs some major work. I can't be the bow and arrow when my inflexible, tight unworked 36-year old arms don't bend like that, McFlexible. I know the other class members were still just agog at the river pouring off me but I felt a little more in control AND I did lose about two pounds of water weight by yesterday morning which I've since put right back on, so there is that. Hi, I'm Beau and I'm a sweater.