Knees. Hips. Shoulders. Back. Front. Teeth. Hair.
It. All. Hurts.
I could go back and recount each class but that would bore you. And me.
Let's just say that I'm in the grinder, and I'm being chewed up.
There is no rhyme or reason to it. One class is OK, the next I'm flat on my back and questioning my sanity.
Questioning my practice.
Questioning my life.
Add to that the fact that I was unable to take class for two days in a row. Now I've got 17 days to do the last 20 classes.
Class 33: No water, no lunch. Yet, I walk in with the feeling I'm going to kick ass. Instead, I'm down for the count at Triangle.
Class 34: Took the 5:30AM. Somehow I manage to get my hands behind my feet in H2K!
Class 35: Bad night all around. Instructor sets up in front of me and warms up by doing perfect handstands one after another. Surrounded by really good students who outclass me. I was the flabby, pale guy surrounded by toned, fit, healthy yogis. No confidence or will power. I was toast before Triangle. Yes, I know I'm only supposed to focus on myself but sometimes it is impossible -- especially when everyone is doing a perfect Balancing Stick and I'm standing there with hands on hips, gasping for air.
Balancing Stick Pose
(That is NOT me.)
That's really all you need to read. Lots of laying on my back. One decent class followed by a terrible one.
The cycle has kept up this week. A good double on Sunday, tough nights Monday, and Tuesday, then a surprisingly good class this morning! Since I'm taking class again tonight, it must mean that tonight's class is going to be a bitch.
And so it goes...