I almost talked myself out of going to yoga tonight. The start of DC’s true spring was hot and moggy, and I had two blisters on both heels from wearing a pair of dress shoes that were a gift, but I had never tried them on for more than a few minutes before heading off to work. I was also feeling sore in odd places from my Sunday yoga class.
I felt a surge of resistance as I passed invisible boundary lines: getting in the car, waiting at traffic lights, walking up to Thrive Yoga from the parking lot, standing outside the studio waiting for the previous class to leave, trying to loosen up before the start of class, moving through the first poses.
But I did not give in to the urge to turn back. At the 20 minute point, I turned inward and allowed my body to follow the instructions, zoned out the other yogis. I got through the class.