Last night I snapped a photo of the free yoga class I took on a pier off lower Manhattan.
I really really really didn’t want to go to yoga yesterday. It was kind of an intense day and the last thing I wanted was to be alone with my thoughts. I believe I wrote to veggielife and andellasaid that I wanted to “sit in a dark room and drink many beers” instead of class, just to paint a picture. Besides, I rationalized that I had run that morning, so I had already punched my card for the day.
What made me go? Well, I don’t know. It didn’t hurt to leave the office while there was still a fair amount of sunshine, or walk along the Hudson. Or that I had taken a class with the teacher before, and really liked her. Maybe it was because I knew I probably wouldn’t have time to take another class this week, and I’ve gone every week for the past four, which is a decent streak.
I don’t need to say that I was glad I went, because of course I was.
I would never say that I force myself to exercise… but I still need a push, a lot of the time. It feels like a Thing I Do now, but still some days a Thing I’m Obligated To. It probably took me three solid months of working out not to argue with myself EVERY time before I went to the gym, and that was a lot of self-argument to wade through. Turns out, my brain doesn’t always know what’s best for me. But now I have momentum, and this is what it’s for. I don’t need it when it all feels easy. I need it when it doesn’t.
