I am wearing actual workout clothes, for possibly the first time in my life since I finished my last college PE class with relief.
Both dogs are mystified by this.
But in ten minutes, I’m headed to a yoga class at the Y, so I’m dressed for the occasion. I’ve been wearing capris and tank tops when we go to yoga, but I decided last weekend that maybe I really ought to have better clothing options. It doesn’t make me feel athletic, however, just kind of silly. And maybe a little fat.
I really like yoga, though. I think that’s the only time I’ve ever said that about a form of exercise, but yoga feels good. Whenever I get lost with the poses, I just breathe for a while. Twice, tears have started flowing, for no real reason, except that I’m being in the moment and when I’m in the moment, I discover that a deep well of sadness is brimming up inside of me.
That sounds as if it ought to be unpleasant, but it’s not.
Yoga — recommended.