Snow today, thick drifts of it, and I woke early to shovel. But the storm was still blowing, and the stoop was reburied before I finished the walk. No way to run outside, though I had 5 miles and 6 hill sprints planned. I grimaced at the sky, put up the shovel, and made for the hot yoga shack.
Today was my second yoga class. I'm trying Bikram yoga - an isometric nightmare performed in demonic heat - to true up some muscles neglected by running. My hamstrings have been tight since at least 2nd grade gym class, and this morning I fell out of the more extravagant poses. The teacher spoke her cues softly, but at the breakneck pace of an auctioneer. I missed every other word, and tumbled limply out of Eagle Pose and Standing Head To Knee. I rocked like a foal in the throes of a fit. The Auctioneer called corrections at me, each time a little more slowly and with audible pity. Nowonyourbackarmsatyoursidesrelax, relax. Relax. A balloon of horror grew in my gut with each deep gulp of steam.
Afterward though, I felt my joints soften and shed their aches. My head was light and my step gentle. The world was warm and smooth as pudding. Then, when I got back to my house, there was still the egregious snow.
Turns out a corpse pose in the snow leaves a damn good snow angel.
(Image by Tracy Collins)
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