Stop by the gym for some yoga

Your muscles are still sore and tight after the match earlier today. So when you walk by the gym, you dismiss the idea of going in for a workout, not wanting to overtrain. But just as you’re about to turn away, {if DaphnePath ==1}you suddenly remember doing yoga with Daphne last week{else}you start thinking about ways to limber up, and yoga suddenly pops into your mind.{endif} That could be just what you need right now.

You head into the gym and find a large multipurpose room that suits your needs. A dance group occupies one half of the room, practicing a routine in front of the mirror, but the other half of the room is empty, save for a built guy in a muscle tee bearing the Fiji letters juggling half a dozen clubs in the air.

{if Dylan > 5} “What up, Alex, how’s it hanging?” Dylan calls out, giving you a casual wave even as he continues to juggle. “You here to learn from the master?”{else} “What up, dude,” he calls out, giving you a casual wave even as he continues to juggle. “You here to learn from the master?”{endif}

{if Dylan > 5} “Hey, Dylan,” you call back. “I was planning to do some yoga, but you know what? I’ve got time. I’m ready to learn the secret to juggling.”{else} “Hey man,” you call back. “I was planning to do some yoga, but you know what? I’ve got time. I’m ready to learn the secret to juggling.”{endif}

“Solid,” he nods, catching the clubs as they fall. He lays them out on the ground{if Dylan > 5}.{else} and sticks out his hand, saying: “Name’s Dylan, what’s yours?”{endif}

{if Dylan > 5}{else}”Alex,” you reply, giving him a firm handshake.{endif}

He picks up a club, about to pass it to you, when he pauses.

“You haven’t juggled before, have you?” he asks.

“Never successfully,” you say.

Dylan laughs and nods, heading over to the big storage cabinet at the side of the room. It’s packed full of equipment—bats, nets, paddles, mats, rope, and more. Dylan digs in, pulling out three balls out of a box in the side, and then he unrolls a yoga mat tucked into the corner, tossing them all to you. You manage to catch the balls, although that leaves you with no hands for the mat. You stick out your foot and catch it on that.

“Good instincts,” he says approvingly. “Balls are easier to juggle than clubs. The first thing you want to learn is the toss.”

He demonstrates with a throw of his club, throwing it up to eye level so that it arcs neatly into his other hand, and he gestures for you to do the same with one ball. You practice the toss a couple times, getting a feel for the ball, passing it between one hand and the next.

“Now add a second ball to the mix,” Dylan says, picking up a second club. He demonstrates the technique and watches as you get it down pat in a minute, only dropping the balls once in the process.

“This is pretty easy,” you say, effortlessly juggling the two balls.

“It’s adding the third one that’s tricky,” Dylan laughs. “Watch me carefully.”

He picks up the third club and begins to juggle the three of them, tossing them extra high into the air to give himself time to exaggerate his movements, letting you see just how he passes the club from one hand to next, dragging out the brief moments when all three of them are airborne.

You pick up the third ball and try to juggle all three of them, and almost immediately they scatter every which way.

“Shit, I thought I’d be able to keep it going for at least a couple seconds,” you say.

“If you can do it well for a short time, you can do it well for a long time,” Dylan says, clapping your back as he passes you one of the dropped balls. “Though it takes time to work up to that.”

The two of you spend the better part of twenty minutes working on your three ball juggle. Though it’s tough going at first, you manage to find your footing, the catch and toss motion feeling less and less awkward with each dropped ball. You manage to even keep all three going in the air for a couple rounds, before you finally drop them.

“Damn man, you’re making quick progress,” Dylan says, giving you a salute of respect while he’s juggling his own clubs. “You’ll be impressing those chicks in the dance group in no time.”

“They’ll lose interest once they see me on the yoga mat,” you laugh, shaking your hands out as you put the balls down. “Those girls are flexible as hell.”

The two of you spend a second staring at the girls in the dance group doing some kind of splits-spin thing on the ground, each secretly enjoying the view of the asses on display, and then you catch each other’s eye.

“Good shit,” Dylan nods. “I got to bounce, but have a blast on the yoga mat. Catch you later.”

With that, he gathers up his juggling stuff and packs it away in the storage cabinet. You, alone with the yoga mat, pull up a youtube follow-along tutorial and do your best to imitate the lady through her poses. You probably butcher half the motions, but you follow the lady’s advice, focusing on your breathing, pushing yourself where you feel the stretch most, really getting into it.

You **** yourself to hold a hard pose that has your hamstrings burning for just a couple seconds more, when you notice that the dance group taking a break. The girls are laughing and joking with one another, drinking from their water bottles, but you notice one or two of them checking you out, nudging each other, whispering things… you assume good things from the expressions on their faces, but one can never be too sure.

Eventually, they go back to practicing their routine (that catchy K-pop tune now stuck in your head, the inner producer in you silently wondering how you might be able to spin it into something new), and you reach the end of the yoga tutorial feeling hot and tired, but real good inside. It’s time to leave the gym.

Dylan +10