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.

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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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