Om, My God

I decided that I had to get back to exercising and there’s a wonderful, reasonably-priced yoga studio that has opened up half a block from my house and has classes at times that I can actually make and still arrive at work at a decent hour.

I have been there for a total of three visits and I am here to tell you that after each class, I am hurting in a whole new part of my body – me, a veteran of hundreds of yoga classes! Left flank? Check. Shoulders and neck? Oh, yeah! Lower back? If it could talk, it’d be saying, “^%$%#&*&&(*&*&!!”

I suppose this is good, right? I am moving muscles I never have moved before, presumably? This will reduce my blood pressure, increase my stamina and lower my LDL? Well, it better. At the moment I’m pretty sure I’m walking at a visible tilt. I’m also fighting an uncontrollable urge to ask Pancake if she can demonstrate the right alignment for Downward Facing Dog, that sweet little yogi puppy.


One response to “Om, My God

  1. Hot Pants, I tried yoga about twice when I was in college. Even at a startlingly low weight, I could not hack it. Pilates is super duper, just too expensive. Brava, H.P.!
    I’ve just weaned myself off the treadmill to the elliptical in a bold attempt to save my knees. I feel like I’m going to spin off into the stratosphere. It’s scary.

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