my thoughts on life, love, faith, and motherhood
I decided last minute that I was going to take a flow yoga class today at the gym. I hadn’t planned to go to any class today, I was just excited that I managed to get both girls fed and in the car before 11am. After I checked my girls in at the childcare desk, I figured I’d go look at the class schedule for the heck of it. I was pretty excited that a yoga class was going to start in 15 minutes. Of course, I was totally unprepared. I had a baggy t-shirt on, my yoga mat lay rolled neatly in my living room at home, and my toes are screaming for a pedicure. Oh well, I had two hours of free childcare, and since I really didn’t have the motivation to do my own thing in the weight room, I filed in to the exercise room as the doors opened. I grabbed a (too-short) squishy mat in the supply closet, and pulled off my socks. A very sweet, soft-spoken woman smiled and asked me if I’d been to this class, or any, yoga class before. Admittedly, it’s been about three years, and I’ve had two babies since then so I wasn’t sure how it would go. I was nervous the instructor would fly through poses and contortions and leave me in child’s pose. But, I somehow made it through class, only once saying out loud, “How in the world do you do THAT?” as I watched everyone flip gracefully from downward facing dog to somehow belly up with two hands on the mat and just one foot. Overall, I enjoyed it. My back is sore. My butt is sore. I feel like I worked hard, but I don’t think I’ll be nervous about how I’ll get through my next class.