Ahhhhh, yoga.
OW, yoga.
My foray back into the studio (one of those pesky resolution things) was fantastic and juicy and exhilirating while it was happening, not so much for a few days following that initial class.
See, they heat the room at my studio to almost 100 degrees. You won't believe the positions you can wrestle yourself into after spending an hour basically doing calisthenics in that kind of heat. It fools you into thinking you're Gumby. Guess what. You're not. There, I saved you a lot of pain. In addition to all that, you sweat like a meatloaf. There's dripping and everything.
I was CRIPPLED. Crippled I say. Unbelievably sore the next day and the next day and the next. I couldn't lift my arms higher than shoulder height and just sitting still hurt. I was too weak to take pictures. On the third day, I rose again and dragged my moaning, sorry ass to the yoga class at my office and tried to work out some of the ouch. (Seriously though - moaning does make it hurt a bit less)
It sort of worked. Felt kind of horrible while I was doing it - and oh MY GOD, I didn't realize how agonizing bridge pose could be. The day after though, I definitely felt a bit better. I could once again dress myself.
By the end of the week, the bod was mostly back to normal. I could cross my legs without wincing and holding my breath, and showering wasn't much of a challenge anymore.
So now I'm doing it all over again this week. Why not? Hey, maybe I could get my very own telethon out of it. A telethon for sweaty, crippled meatloaves (meatloafs?).
Is Jerry Lewis still alive?
6 days ago
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