I cried during yoga.

Ahhh people.

Ive rambled ad nauseum about my struggles to find my new kindergarten-groove.

Far less than feeling sad & alone & untethered without my sidekick Ive found the newly shortened days (bus pick up at 8a & hardstop to the work day at 330p) have caused more frazzle than floundering.

As a result Ive focused less on exploring new passions than I planned/otherwise might have.

Ive neither gone anti-gravity nor have I re-found my tween writer friends.

And Im ok with that for now.

Baby steps to finding my new routine are just fine with this misfit.

And, it was in the name of those baby steps, I made time for a NINETY MINUTE hot yoga class last week.

A mere ten years after I took my first one.

I arrived early.  I unfurled my mat.  I stayed & sweated through the entirely 90 minutes.  I cried. And I discovered a few things about myself.

Im leading a fear-based fitness life. 

I pride myself on NOT leading a fear based life.  I happily do one (or more!) thing each day which scares me.  The hot yoga experience, however, forced me to face the fact Im leading a 100% fear based fitness existence.
I simply sat on my mat during poses I’d normally attempt without hesitation.  There’s healthy caution & theres fear.  During those 90 minutes it smacked me in the sweaty face mine is the latter.

Ive been repeatedly told yoga is not merely an athletic endeavor it is a spiritual endeavor.   That we gain strength/ability to hold poses only when places in our body which are block with unresolved issues and energy are released.

I still dont know if this is applicable to my experience (for me there was a straight line between not attempting a pose & fearing reinjury) but it’s a concept Ive been pondering ever since the class.

Perhaps it’s time to loosen my attachment to my self-definition. 

I dont think this is a factor in my fear based fitness existence (?), but I received the message loud and MATclear it might be time to loosen my attachment to my self-definition.

The mere thought of exercising for NINETY minutes annoyed this misfit.  It irritated me.  I had to stifle the urge (I wont lie) to pretend I had some sort of emergency and rush out of class early.

Im a believer in the universe sending us messages and the fact I reacted so strongly was, to me, an indicator I might need to return.  With baby steps.  One time a week.  90 minutes of working out (!).  It wont kill me and it might make me stronger: inside and out.

I am what I profess to be.

It may not sound like a big deal–but given the fact I was sniffling on the mat I found this reassuring.  I didnt care.  I didnt give a thought to what the others in the class may have been thinking until later that day as *I* reflected on the experience.

I may be mildly offtrack, searching for my new routine and leading a fear based fitness life—but I AM comfortable in my own skin.

Im an unapologetically weeping on the yoga mat misfit & the reminder of that fact felt great.

This post took me a long time to write as I realized, with each revision, I still possess no answers.
I didn’t really enjoy the yoga class much and I think, for me, that’s a message I need to return.

The discomfort I felt happened because I was forced to confront ideas I’d previously been able to avoid (fitness ruts will allow you to do that!).

In my heart of hearts, in my quiet morning moments, I know this discomfort will help me achieve much needed (non-muscular) growth.

All I know right now is Im returning to class tomorrow.

And, right now, that’s all I need to know.

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