Kino Macgregor is real.

She doesn’t just exist as a digital, pocket sized Instagram post; no, she is definitely real, because I see her three-dimensional form upon entering the sprawling UCLA gymnasium, tossing that inhumanly perfect hair and smile, and sporting a dashing accessory — Tim Feldman, her husband (F&ck; he’s real too!) — and oh my gosh aren’t they adorable and lovely and smiley and motherfriggin’ intimidating as all hell.

Welcome to Worry No. 38 (Kino Kickassery) about attending a led second (intermediate) series with Sharath in LA.

Indeed, class is about twenty minutes from the first Ekam when I encounter El Kino, followed by a number of ashtanga all-stars who would soon be the Chosen Ones in a filmed version of this class recreating those old led videos with Gurugji. No pressure. I text my husband:

“This is crazy. It’s like Ashtanga stars. Kino, all that . . . . like American Ninja Warrior.”

Did I just compare a yoga class to American Ninja Warrior? (Worry No. 39 : What the f&ck is wrong with me). Get your sh*t together, man (No. 40: I so don’t have my sh*t together).

Naturally, “What the f*ck am I doing here” (worry No. 43) is on full blast, now that Worry No. 2 (pooping) is behind me (the only people who discuss poop more than ashtangis are parents of newborns). Worry No 3 (lack of sleep) is factually behind me but camps out at the forefront– because I’m great at uselessly worrying about the past– along with Worry No. 4 (I’m going to look really ugly) because I’m great at worrying about things beyond my control, and man I need my beauty sleep. I’m also a little concerned about meeting people in real life who heretofore only knew of me online (Worry No. 5– my unveiling as the girl who wrote THAT blog) along with being outed for not being as cool as I pretend to be (No. 6, exacerbated by the fact I wasn’t cool enough to know the song played on the ride over to class with my SLC ashtanga mates; I pretended to anyway).

Worry Number 1, of course, is the state of my practice, as I’ve been stiff as of late, and dwi pada (sit up, put both legs behind the head; enough said) looms ahead of me, the far off, to-be- revealed villain I’ll have to defeat to move forward in this quest. Indeed, last night my SLC teacher casually informed me that Sharath can and will stop people during led second, giving birth to Worry No. 41 (will I get stopped, and where, oh God). In fact, dwi pada itself is a worry, as it always is (No. 27), along with my stickier right hip (No. 7), which can foil my plans in any number of places. And damn, balancing in a forearm stand in this scene, on the sheen of Kino’s perfect sweat (failure to launch in pincha (no. 28)); the crazy forearm pretezel that follows, Karandavasana (No. 29, to land this, in a crowd, under pressure, I literally can’t even), and, last but not least of the pose worries, those seven headstands, to Sharaths’s count, in a crowded room, just SHUT UP) (nos. 30-36). Come to think of it, every other pose I do all the time is suddenly a worry (Nos. 8, 19, 22-23) — and oh sh*t, what about Sharath’s notorious slow holds in Chatturanga (24), final headstand (25) and oh sh*t utplutihi (No. 26).

I entertain myself by ranking and re-ranking the postures by degree of angst.

At least I’ll have kapo, that big backbend. Thankfully, not a concern–If i can make it that far (worry No. 21). And aw sh&t, I’ll come clean: I worried about nobody seeing my bendy backbend at all (No. 20).

Back to business: it’s time to find a place for my mat (Worry No. 9). The all-stars are all in the front row, including my SLC leader. I want to be near him, but the front middle is, well, not for me? Or for me . . . (No. 10, not belonging anywhere). I finally land between two strangers in the second row middle because they look nice and my SLC teacher is now just in front of me to the left — close enough to be comforting, far away enough not to freak me out. (Worry No. 11: standing next to someone whose practice freaks me the f&ck out). Still, I’m worried about letting my teacher down (No. 12) by falling on my face and eating it in some horrifically publicly embarrassing way, about meeting Sharath (No. 13), getting ignored by Sharath (No. 14) and getting noticed by Sharath– but for doing things wrong (No. 15).

Now that I’m set up, I’m anxious about needing to pee every twenty minutes (No. 16), desperately trying to time my last bathroom trip to the latest possible moment without missing the start of class (No. 17- pee timing) and with enough time to sneak in a power pose while hiding in a bathroom stall (No. 31-power posing timing).

Peeing reminds me: what if I inappropriately release gas, because plane travel always messes with my normally perfect digestive system, as does stress and I’ve had both in the last 24 hours (No. 18, detectable farting).

Now seems as good a time as any to mention that I threw in Anxiety No. 43.5 (body insecurity), as a bonus concern given all the other worries going on, kind of like the security blanket stress in this body of disquietude. And let’s not forget worry No 42:

I’m worried about being worried.

Somewhere in this churning sea of jitters I locate Sharath taking his place at the front. The worries, lacking substance (not to mention expectations to ride on) disperse, as if chased away by the opening mantra. Sharath’s voice hijacks me into the present moment and the palpable, synchronized focus of everyone practicing holds me there, saving me from myself. The worries were nothing but imaginary foes, but each cued breath is real; there is no room for worry about the past and future when confined to the freedom of now.

That’s why I’m here– that’s why I love this practice so much– and that love, like Kino, is definitely real.