25 August, 2014

Not even close to making it

Today was supposed to be vinyasa with Michel. But it was vinyasa at home.

Reason was that it took 75 minutes to drive 4 miles. Actually, it took 50 minutes to drive 2 miles and then 25 minutes to drive the other 2 miles. The important part was the first part, since I had given myself 45 minutes time to make it to class, which is usually far more than enough. But there's construction in the city right now, and it has created total pandemonium on the downtown roads.

I couldn't get too upset, though, because this is what's happening, right? Once I realized the extent of the traffic, I actually started hoping that I would miss it by a long shot, because I didn't want to end up in a situation where I was almost making it, and feel like I should be anxious (since I shouldn't), or try to rush, or wonder if I can walk in late. If you're going to miss something, it's much better to miss it solidly.

So, instead of yoga at the studio, I sat in traffic and talked on the phone with my father, which is probably better in the big picture of things.

When I arrived home, I decompressed from the drive (you'd think that yoga would be the perfect decompression, but sometimes it's necessary to pre-decompress, rather than plop right down on a mat and try to bring it back to zero).

Practice was decent, intense, lots of heat in the house right now, lots of sweat. I did a pretty intense Baptiste flow, with very few exclusions (skipped Dancer's, Wheel, Floor Bow), and did extra long holds in Pigeon pose.

Practice is what's important. It doesn't matter where it is.

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