When I was younger, all my thin, very fit friends were runners or aerobics instructors. Later, my hard-bodied companions lifted weights and worked out with personal trainers.

I always believed that enviable weight and sculpted bodies were a result of hard aerobic workouts, like marathons through the mountains or biking trips to Moab. I rationalized that fitting into those size 2 jeans or sporting shapely summertime arms was the result of crazy spin classes and body building with a pro. Clearly, superhuman efforts all around. But lately, some of my friends who are in the best shape claim that it’s because of yoga. Certainly not something as soft and silky as yoga? Yoga is slow and easy, right?

Well, slow maybe. But not easy.

I went to my first official yoga class last week. It’s been on my trying-not-to-kick-the-bucket list for a while. Before going, I was asked to define my goals for the class. Hmm … I wasn’t sure. So the instructor prodded me. Did my muscles ever feel stiff and tight? Yes. Did I have pain anywhere? Yes, mostly my knees. Did I do stretches before walking, running or biking? Um, not always … Did I have trouble sleeping? Sometimes. Was I confident of my balance on one leg, the other leg, walking a beam? Well, maybe not so much. Was I taking time to relax and be present in the moment? No, of course not.

So my goals were set. Stretching, lengthening and balancing of the torso, keeping my body from pain, getting a good night’s sleep, focusing on the here and now. Ready!

There were 10 women in the class. I self-consciously announced that I was a beginner and placed my mat in what I thought was the back row. Heads up, that can change as quickly as a shift to the warrior pose. We had to be barefoot, which set me back another bit since I have the world’s ugliest and most unstable feet. This is my yoga handicap, or excuse — you decide.

We began by sitting cross-legged on our yoga mats, hands pressed together in front of our chests, “Namaste.” Ahh … but then, oh my goodness. We moved from downward dog (the instructor patiently “adjusted” my pose several times), to cat-cow, to balancing table (mine was a bit rickety). A move to triangle sent me sprawling onto my mat, and a kind classmate reassured me it wasn’t the first time someone had fallen in this class. I predicted to myself it wouldn’t be the last. Up we went into lunges and warrior poses and tree stances. Back down to plank then cobra then (whew!) downward dog again. And then — oh, great joy! — we repeated the sequence.

So what did I think of my first yoga class?

I truly thought holding the poses was very hard. I was challenged to reach and stretch further than I had in years. My muscles actually trembled trying to stay in position and I feared losing balance many more times than I actually did. Supporting my body in certain poses was much harder than lifting weights. It took concentration on what I was doing, here and now, to stay in control of my body in most of the stances.

In short, I stretched and lengthened and balanced. I focused on what I was doing right then in the moment. I controlled my breathing and I relaxed at the end.

And one of the best parts was when we finally lay melting into our mats and the instructor came by to lift our shoulders, pull down our legs and arms and press on our foreheads. Nirvana.

I think I will continue to do my yoga class once a week. My instructor recommends every day, but let’s not set bucket goals too high, OK? I have to admit, I did sleep well. I say, try it, and let me know.

Namaste.

Katherine O’Neal is a teacher and writer who has lived in the Cheyenne area for 30 years. Contact Katherine with comments and ideas for her weekly column at sharingcheyenne@gazettecommunitynews.com.