I took a yoga class today. As a yoga instructor, I take yoga classes a lot. Maybe too much. (Is there such a thing as too much yoga?!)
In all fairness, it was my second yoga class of the day, but I was struggling from the moment l walked in the studio. By struggling, I mean I was trying to talk myself out of taking the class.
I've heard about this from my students, but I am not sure if I have ever experienced the whole, 'hey, I am here to take a yoga class - but I really don't want to be here.'
As soon as I sat on my mat, I wanted to be somewhere else - anywhere else. I secretly wanted to run out of the room and sit on the white couch in the lobby and wait the entire hour for my friend who met me for this class. My mind came up with 96 reasons of why I shouldn’t stay, even though I had made this yoga date with my friend.
I do yoga because I love the calming effect I get. Usually the feeling comes immediately. As soon as I pull up to a yoga studio, let alone roll out my mat, I get an immense feeling of peace and calm. We call this 'dropping in' or becoming 'zenned out', which is an amazing feeling, like the yoga version of a runner's high. But sometimes the mind will struggle to soften and relinquish control.
I was distracted by everything. I was distracted by my low rise yoga pants creeping down to expose my butt crack. I was distracted by my growling stomach and my sore hip. I was distracted by my page-long to do list and my exciting weekend plans. And I was distracted by the teacher's catch phrase, 'so good', that I swear she said 50 times. As I continued this inner dialogue of distraction (and let's be honest, judgement) I felt like a horrible yogi. Maybe yoga instructors are bad students, I think to myself.
The truth is, I