Apparently there are between eight and fourteen different kinds of yoga. In 2016 I tried one (well two, really, if you count the one chair yoga session I took at a conference – I don’t). Yoga is not for me. For one thing, I have bad knees, and many of the standing positions (not in the chair class) were unrealistic for me. And I’m just not into the whole spiritual side of it. I don’t say amen, so why would I say namaste.  Near the end of one class the instructor told us to clear our minds and forget about work. I had until she said that. Then I couldn’t stop thinking about it

So, when I retired, I decided to try Pilates. I’d had instruction in the use of a reformer, but I find a mat class better for me. So three mornings a week I, one other guy, and between three and eight women, head for the party room in our building, where we’re led through an hour-long class (one of those 50-minute hours actually), at the end of which I just know that I’ve elongated previously undiscovered fibers throughout of my body, though perhaps not to the extent of Elastigirl in The Incredibles.

And, indeed, I’ve noticed an improvement in my flexibility as it relates to my golf swing. Also, I’ve finally met some people in my building after 10 years (and learned their names). Some of us even go out together for drinks, which apparently is an integral part of Pilates training, at least in our building.

The most interesting aspect of the class is that the two guys head for the front and most of the women fight to be as far back as possible. Exactly the opposite of every other exercise class I’ve ever been in. There’s a lot of chatter, and who knows what else, that goes on behind me, out of my visual range.  I’ve heard rumors about people falling off rollers.  But I’ve been told that what happens in the back row, stays in the back row.