Last week, Andrea and I switched from our nice, relaxing kripalu yoga class to an intense vinyasa (flow) class that one person cutely referred to last night as “hot and spicy” and which my sister referred to as “yoga of death”. Where the kripalu class was like a relaxing retreat, the vinyasa class is like boot camp. Last week was tough, but I felt great as I left. I felt strong and a little sore, but a good sore. My abs were aching, my arms were tired, I wasn’t sure I could walk out, my legs felt so loose, but I recovered in a couple of days. It hurt to laugh or pull a sweater over my head, but as the days went on, I got beyond that. Or so I thought.

Class begins with some serious ab workouts and by the third pose last night, I was done for. My abs were screaming. I was in agony, wishing I was home on the couch, drinking tea instead of in class with my feet in the air doing crunches. I hated the instructor (no, not really, she’s so sweet, but freakishly STRONG with an impossible endurance). I spent the rest of the hour and a half class feeling like a weak, uncoordinated sissy. We flowed up, we flowed down, we twisted and lunged, we bent and tripped (oh, no, that was just me). We spent so long in down dog, I thought my arms would collapse. I almost needed help putting my coat on when I left. I staggered out to my car hoping to make it home before I fell asleep. Man! That was a tough class. I was glad to hear my sister say the same thing, I’m not the only sissy.

This morning I’m still exhausted. What does it say when a workout makes you want to sleep for twelve hours? I suppose it says that I’m out of shape! That’s probably true, and as tired as I am, and as tough as it was to hold my coffee cup this morning with my limp, shaky arms, I still can’t wait to go back next week.

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