Thursday night was another snowstorm. you know, just another one of our daily snowstorms up here in RI that we've been getting... so kickboxing was cancelled.
Saturday morning, I decided to head over to the gym for a "cardio/core" class- which I really liked. and some yoga. I own a LOT (when I say a LOT, I mean EVERYTHING. because I work for them.) of Patagonia yoga gear so I dressed the part of a catalog model, packed up my mat and towel, and staked out my little piece of real estate on the hardwood.
the instructor asked if anyone was brand new. I raised my hand. she gave me the once over. the up and down. and frowned. "you don't look like you've never done yoga."
the answer was a half truth. I have tried heated power yoga about a dozen times but I in no way consider myself to be a yoga...er. yoger? yogist? It was all over when the shirtless guy next to me decided to drop his sweat off his fingertip onto my mat during warrior 3. and I screamed in the middle of the class. and all of the yoga people shot me nasty faces for ruining their zen. okay. it's gross!
I winced and explained that my running coach recommended it. the guy next to me was already practicing his inversions and swinging from the ceiling. show-off.
so I can't do yoga. I don't lack the strength or stamina. I lack the balance and coordination. I fell over. a lot. the Patagucci wasn't doing me any favors. I'll stick with the kickboxing and long distance racing. but I'll keep up with the yoga once a week. on Saturday mornings. mostly because that Patagonia gear looks extra adorable on me.
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