Mommy Yoga

I have been to three prenatal yoga classes so far, and today I went to one without Kate as a buddy. It wasn't as much fun as when she was there, but she's due in about a week, and I have to learn to function as a single mother...one mother. At yoga. I have to make more friends.

Before class, I went to one of my old students' lacrosse games, which was only 15 minutes away from final destination. I overstayed and chatted by about 20 minutes, and then was forced to grumble in traffic on a very long road with a billion lights on it until I got there and found street parking.

I was about 2 blocks away from the studio, and at this point I was 15 minutes late, and began to powerwalk uphill. This quickly became a powerwaddle, as my round ligaments began acting up, inciting a feeling almost identical to those miserable side cramps you get while jogging, but just inside and below my hip bones on either side. Pressing on them with 2 fingers on each side is helpful, but looks a little weird while hustling about town.

I got in, now 20 minutes late, hurried the best I could to the bathroom, and snuck into class. I noticed when I signed in that there were already 19 glowing ladies signed in, and I wasn't sure quite what I'd find for a spot.

I walked in, and had to stop entirely for about 30 seconds before finding literally the only place I would be able to fit. I use the word "fit" like you might when you jam the last coke into a beach cooler and sit on the lid.

This "spot" was the yoga equivilent of Harry Potter's bedroom under the stairs.

I fit the long way, but width wise I only had about 3 inches on either side of my mat. For poses where we laid on the floor, I had to rest my elbows on 2 different walls instead of "fully extending in a T position". There was a music speaker (playing music in English, get with it yoga teacher!) right next to my right ear, and a picture window facing the street was directly behind me. There was a colorful screen there, but I guarantee someone still saw me struggle-bussing it in warrior 2.

The teacher kept saying variations of the phrase "I can do hard things". I found that to be self-evident from the corner of the room I shared with a small spider.

Here is a recreation of my favorite pose, which we do for the last 10-15 minutes of every class:

"restorative [dead] fish".