Today I went to yoga for the first time in one month. With the Fourth of July holiday followed by my vacation time off and then scurrying back into work with a new editor, I hadn’t been since June. And I really had been missing it.
There’s something comforting about sitting in the community rec room with its full-wall mirrors and kids’ gymnastics equipment pushed to the side. It’s an hour where I can be safe. It’s an hour where I don’t need to worry. It’s an hour where I can think. or not think. whatever.
Only two others showed up to class today — I suppose the thunder and rain storm (IN JULY!) scared everyone else away. But it was nice and calm with low numbers. No excessive coughing or sneezing. No need to be mindful that my mat will be too close to another person’s or that I might block the instructor’s view for someone behind me.
With all the internal turmoil, it reminded me to just breathe. It’s as simple as that.
Plus, going to yoga means it’s my day off from running. And after yesterday’s track workout — yes! I’m doing speed training now since I am serious about PR-ing in my second full marathon in October! — I needed to not be running.
All we can do is keep breathing.