Today something groundbreaking happened in yoga class. I absentmindedly somehow touched my big right toe. In my young life, I've never been able to stick my legs straight and comfortably touch any toe, ever. In past years, sometimes I could almost-very-nearly-ouch-this-hurts graze the tops of my feet. But today, January 12, 2011, I touched a toe.
I started doing yoga weekly about a year ago, and my progress has eekingly been slow. I've been sitting hunched over my whole life and have very weak shoulders, core, upper body, everything — except I could kill a man with my legs, which are pretty freaking strong from all those marathons I've run and the biking to and from work every day. And since I am such poor model for what a yoga should look like, I am honestly surprised that a. I haven't given up yet and b. some of these tecahers haven't approached me after class and said "listen honey... I'm sorry to tell you this, but this isn't for you."
But I have stuck with it and no teacher has laughed in my face (for the record, yoga teachers are SO encouraging. The one last week was really quite nice, even though her class was so hard I thought I might barf). And even though it has taken me a year to touch one measely toe, I am proud of said accomplishment and am excited for the rest on the horizon.
One of my New Year's resolutions is to do a handstand. I still have nine more toes to touch. I shall work on this.
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
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