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The personnel at the front desk worked closely with me to get me started on my journey. They suggested a beginner's move class. Boy, were those few days brutal. I was actually rather sore from being so stagnant in the fitness department. Walking to the car or up the stairs to the bedroom or carrying a basket of laundry can't really constitute as being "active". I hadn't ran much and was really out of shape.
I began going almost three days a week and either Saturday or Sunday or both. I could feel myself catching on, keeping a watchful eye around the room and listening to the instructor as she/he encouraged us to enjoy our practice on our terms. I felt I was getting stronger. Yoga wasn't a competition. You push or don't push your body on how you want to. Plus, I was rather taken aback on the various ages, shapes and sizes in the class as well as fitness levels. Pretty much anyone can do it.
Ok. So I have been going for a few months now. I feel a little blah when I don't make it during the day. My brand spankin' new mat is getting broken in. I finally got some yoga pants. I can feel the inner light.
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Listen, I get it. You also like yoga, but the problem is that you showed up late and now you want to squeeze into my space like a sardine which kind of ruins the mood for me. I'm trying to turn off the chatter in my head but I can't. It keeps repeating, "Go find another space. Go fine another space." Or better yet, "Arrive on time to claim your own space." Is it just me? Some of my classes are just filled to the brim and real estate is at its prime. But seriously, how many people, strangers no less, can you cram into yoga studio along with their 85" X 26" mat, block, blanket, and water bottle. Why is it that anyone would have to move? There should be some space between sweaty grunting breathy participants. Hands, butts and feet are flying everywhere. Maybe I am just asking for a little courtesy and a little personal space. Welcome to yoga. Namaste.