Embracing the “Bro Row” — and Yoga

Yoga found me during a particularly difficult winter, personally and professionally. I had always turned to exercise to ease stress, but my regular mix of running and biking weren’t helping like they had previously. A friend suggested a class at Mind the Mat, and I gingerly agreed. When I arrived I was terrified.

Bro Row 01

The anxiety held for about a class and a half. I settled into the pain of stretching long-neglected muscles and the pendulum of deep, steady breathing. I fell a few times; no one laughed at me. I butchered half the poses; instructors gently moved me into place. I lay exhausted on my back after an hour of work, in 95 degree heat, and felt a long-forgotten emotion wash over me: calm.

I kept returning, sometimes with a friend, sometimes by myself, sometimes at 6am, a couple of times a week. Soon I was bending deeper than I had since high school, maybe ever. My arms and legs and core felt stronger. My balance improved. My life stress did not wane, but I handled it better. Summer came. I lugged a heavy pack up and down a ridge in a national forest with friends. I returned home and thanked my favorite instructor, Laura, for how easy it had become to climb logs and hop streams.

Bro Row 02

It was around then that I bought a monthly unlimited membership, to sustain what had become a twice- or three-times-a-week yoga habit. I began mixing in Pilates. I began to achieve poses that had seemed impossible in my early visits. I began to feel restless and stressed if work travel kept me from class for a whole week.

Once, early in my yoga adventure, I dropped in on a Friday night class that just sounded fun. It was actually torture – an escalating series of arm balances, headstands, and other advanced tricks that I could not even contemplate. I grimaced through it and bolted out. Months later, I returned, and I tried again. I still couldn’t do most of it. But I felt like I might someday. I felt like I maybe belonged there.

That feeling of belonging in yoga – and of yoga belonging in my life – is particularly gratifying to me, given the make-up of a typical class. Most days, there are only a handful of men in the studio, at most. The dynamics seemed daunting at first. In one class all the men would cluster in the back, in what they called the “Bro Row.” Then one day a guy next to me, a military lawyer, leaned over right before class started and whispered, “If I fall, you fall, got it? Solidarity.” We both cracked up. Neither of us fell. I stopped feeling self-conscious about my decided lack of muscle stretchiness, even in Pilates, when I was almost always the least flexible, and only male, person in the room.

I have found a solution for the days when I still feel a little bit outnumbered. I recruited another guy to come to some evening classes with me. He is less experienced at yoga than I am, but he’s a fast learner, and he’s never afraid to ask my advice on poses. “Dad,” he will say. “Like this?”

Bro Row 03

He is nearly 10 years old, struggling with his own life stress. He saw how classes were helping me. He asked if he could come along, and he has, several times. When classes end, he says he feels calm, but energized. Like he could sleep, or run a marathon, or maybe both. 

It is a peaceful feeling, we agree, and we are glad for it.

Jim Tankersley is a dad, a Del Ray resident and a reporter for The Washington Post.

1 Comment

  1. Avatar Karolyn Stuver says:

    What an awesome and inspirational story! Made my day! Thanks so much for sharing.

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