Inner peace is painful

Last Thursday, Sarah and I got bitch-slapped by serenity.

That's right.  We went to a yoga class.

This involved waking up at a whopping 6:45am on a day that I don't even have class and Sarah had four or so.

I think we both get credit for just being willing to think about maybe doing that.

It was a cold and breezy day.  I remember the gustiness because my bangs are pretty similar to a quality wind-sock when a good nor'easter blows in.

This particular class is held in our Student Union.  Now, in order to get to the Union, you need to park somewhere.  If you're a student, that probably entails parking at the stadium.  This means that you walk downhill from the parking lot, through the tunnel that goes under the street and on to campus.

Then, you start your journey uphill.  This begins with two sets of stairs followed by a sharp incline through two buildings.  The incline continues until you reach the stairs to the Union.  Once inside the Union, you take TWO MORE SETS OF STAIRS just to get to the gym entrance.

By the time I got there, I was pretty much ready to call it a day.  But I knew Sarah was waiting on me and I headed for the classroom.

That girl is sweet as pie and cuter than grits!  The other people in the class probably thought we were nuts because we were hugging but still saying, "Sara(h)?  Is that you?"

So, we had a brief chat, grabbed some mats and settled in to get are qi all harnessed and our chakras totally aligned.

We were really good, by the way.  The instructor was especially impressed when we pulled out this number:

It could've happened.

The class itself was just fine.  It was pretty low-key and very relaxing.  It's so relaxing, in fact, that you don't quite realize how many muscle groups you're working until it's over.

We both waddled out on shaky legs, conveniently forgetting all the stairs and uphill and downhill climbs waiting for us.

I regret to inform you, however, that no one farted.  Not even me.  That makes this story much less spicy, but there's always next time.

Overall, it was a good experience!

I liked

• the mellow pace.
• the instructor.
• the company.

I disliked

• the mats they provided.  They smelled like corn chips and ass.
• the time, but it's actually good for me because it gets me going in the morning.
• the co-instructor, who didn't do anything except the poses.  Way to co-instruct, butthead.

So, in conclusion, I shall return with my own mat (as soon as I find a mat bag worthy of me) and with Sarah, if she will have me. 

**The link I have provided will give Sarah's abbreviated version of the story.  She was very kind as she never once mentioned what my ass looks like in sweatpants.

I bet I could give you a twisty-bobcat pretzel.

In an effort to be a healthier human being (and to balance out my love of Strawberry Frosted Pop-Tarts), I am making a more concerted effort to exercise.

Tomorrow morning, a fellow blogger and I are waking up early to meet each other at the student union and balance our qi.

That's right.  It's time for yoga.

What, like it's hard?

Sarah, from Live In Imagination, and I have been in the same town and on the same campus (and often in the same building) for months now and have yet to meet.

So, what better way to do that than while grunting, sweating and picking wedgies?  While neither of us is into getting up early (we're college students, people), we're doing it in the name of balance, chakras and breathing out of our third eye.

Even though I'm pretty bendy, this could get graphic.

And Sarah, I beg of you to not hold any of what you see tomorrow against me.  However, if you witness any of this, I hope you'll put a stop to it... and take pictures:

This is never okay.