I'll admit it, those two posts I did over the weekend were completely half-assed. But I posted something! And it's not like I did nothing all weekend... I doubled yoga classes both days, blowing right past the halfway mark. I think I might actually make it! I was thinking a lot about personal motivations as well. At the end of my first Saturday class, right in the middle of shavasana, we got to hear the 'motivation' coming through the wall from the gym next door. The instructor was screaming "GO! PUSH IT! GO! GO! GO!" and other, equally loud but incoherent things in a tone that would have made me give her the hate face and immediately shut down emotionally. Apparently yelling works for some people, but definitely not me. Flash back to my first and only soccer practice: I believe it was fifth grade. Some of the other girls I was friends with had played the year before and won some kind of championship and seemed to really enjoy it. I, on the other hand, had never played. So I show up for the first practice, all excited with my new soccer shorts (they were purple, with white and black beads on the drawstring), ready to have fun with my friends. WRONG. It was conditioning time, which meant adults yelling at kids while they run, and then tossing them balls to block, and if you missed the block you got to run some more. I explained to them that I had never played before, and that no one had yet shown me how to properly block a ball. This is apparently some innate skill I was supposed to have inherited from all the things that do seem to crash into me daily, but sadly, I still missed that damn ball. Whereupon I was told to run sprints. They got my blank face, as I again explained that no one had show me how to perform the skill I was supposed to be demonstrating. Nope, reason didn't work on the crazy adults. I had failed, and I must run as punishment (because running makes you a better blocker...?). So I ran their silly sprints. I ran them all the rest of that afternoon, and then I never came back. Because I am one hell of a stubborn person, and I do not take kindly to raised voices. You want to yell, you better be prepared for me to yell back. Or cry. It really depends on how upset I am. This is why I find yoga so perfect (at least at my studio). It's not about being perfect. It's about being your best you, no matter what version of you shows up that day. You can be tired, sore, limber, bouncy, whatever you are that day, and as long as you're in that room being there for yourself, you have succeeded. I also love that within this challenge time period, I already see myself making progress. And I think my teachers have noticed, too. I'm getting more corrections, but always in a very positive 'you're doing great-now try this, can you feel that now?' kind of way. Which to me means I've progressed out of the 'I'm doing the best I can' phase, and am now in the phase where standing on my head seems like a possibility (years away still, but someday maybe!) I also love the instructor I have on Sunday mornings, because she has amazing taste in music. There is always some gem of a song that I have to ask her about afterward. This was my favorite from yesterday:
Music is always an inspiration, so when you find someone who uses it to make your practice even better you're willing to do crazy things, like wake up for an 8 AM yoga class on a Sunday. Because you might need that song later.