So I’ve been a little under the weather the last week. Okay, I’ve been as sick as a dog. Number one son brought home a beauty of a cold last week, and being a loving, sharing kind of a boy, he shared it with old daddy. Thanks, boy.
Over the last week I’ve spent large amounts of time over the last week fighting a cough, a fever, and a sinus headache that threatened to evolve into a migraine. End result, 10 days off of any form of exercise, even my little back maintenance routine.
Last night I went back to the club, and paid the Iron Price. It wasn’t a particularly hard class, just a medium level flow class in a moderately warm room. Except I’m still stuffy, and sleep deprived, and dizzy from the cough induced hyperventilation.
But I toughed it out, and relearned two very important lessons:
I wasn’t able to do everything, but I was able to do most of the class. And when all was said and done, I was glad I went.
My reasons for practicing yoga are many, but one of the primary ones is to improve and maintain my back and posture. Yoga took me from a hunched over, near cripple, to being a positive role model for correct posture. The reason this is relevant to this story is, the substitute teacher for last night’s class is one who always manages to stress one of my no-go areas during her class.
Last time, she did a ton of wrist balancing and support postures. I have bad osteoarthritis in my right wrist, i.e. no planks and crow postures for me.
Last night, it was all forward folds, i.e. lumbar flexion, one of the banes of my existence.
But, you see, I’m not in class to serve yoga, I’m in class to have yoga serve me. So I modified the exercises I could, skipped the exercises I couldn’t, and came out stretched and strengthened, and glad I went.