I realize yoga is pretty “trendy” and yet I don’t much care. I have been practicing on and off since 1999, when a yoga instructor came to our office gym and showed us the ins and outs of ardho mukha svanasana (downward-facing dog). I loved it then, and I love it now, and I’m never fully sure why I let life get in the way of a regular practice.

I used to practice at home, when our living room was in one piece, and Ron and Len would inevitably practice with me. They were intrigued by whatever it was I was doing on the mat, and they’d nudge my arms and legs as I moved through the primary series. Sometimes, I’d move to the top of the mat only to discover a Dalmatian had taken up residence there, and was watching me with keenly curious brown eyes. Ron always thought downward-facing dog was an invitation to play, and sometimes my practice would dissolve into an impromptu game. Savasana (the corpse pose, or, as one guy at the gym called it the other week, “that nap at the end”) was not so much restful as an attempt to not be licked to death.

I’ve been poking around on the Yoga Journal Web site this weekend, and I stumbled across this article. I knew I wasn’t alone when my little mates tried to get involved in my practice, but I had no idea someone had taken it to a new level and started classes for people and pets, too. While part of me thinks it’s hilarious (and there’s no way I could ever have wrangled our two to a class), another part of me thinks it’s a brilliant idea. I mean, why not? Dogs truly are yogis, as the article says.

I wonder if I get Animal Planet. The only flaw I can see in it is Len’s tendency to bolt if I make any sudden moves. Still, I bet she’d go for the massage.

As if she isn’t spoiled enough.

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Tonight I decided to try an interval workout, instead of my usual 5K on the treadmill. I was at the mall this afternoon and I bought a copy of Shape magazine (which, by the way, I thought was SELF magazine when I bought it, and was heartily disappointed in my purchase when I realized my mistake). I stopped buying these magazines a while ago because the models are all so horribly skinny, and I think it’s pretty fair to say that I could do the RandomHillExtremeMarathon workout seven days a week and still never look like they do. But today I wanted some brain candy and decided to indulge, and they had this set of workouts that all burned more than 500 calories. So I put on my new running skirt (gift certificate, yay!) and my new shoes (a necessity rather than a luxury, because my other ones wore out), and off I went, aiming for 52 minutes of calorie-burning glory.

OKAY. It was bullshit. Either they use a magic treadmill for skinny people, or my gym uses a fake calorie counter on theirs, because at the end of my glorious 52 minutes I was 75 calories short. Slacking, you say? Uh uh. I had to crank up the incline to higher than the highest suggested percentage, and up the speed of my running intervals just to stay on track (also, ahem, the actual speeds and incline they suggested were too easy anyway. Go me!). It wasn’t my math, because according to their calculator, this 500 calories in 52 minutes was based on what a 145 pound woman would burn. And I am about to admit on the Internet that, to my displeasure (I am trying to deal), that is not far off what I weigh.

Anyway, I wasn’t about to shortchanged because of their shitty math, so I stayed on the machine until it said 500. I figure I’m covered either way, but I’m unhappy about the false advertising. No wonder those stupid workout plans never actually work. And no wonder I stopped buying their ridiculous magazine with the stick-insect models.

Jeers to you, Shape.

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