It was a quiet, wonky practice this morning. Only four other students turned out for Sam's 6 o'clock class. My legs felt heavy and weak, I toppled unexpectedly to my bottom during a basic transition and bonked my head on the sloped ceiling after class. But there were deep inhales, longer exhales, laughter, because who doesn't laugh after falling, and savasana. Always savasana.
Say hello to the morning regulars at Elmo's. And the ginkgo trees.
I came home and showed Kent a pose I finally figured out late last night after weeks of trying. I crawled into bed early Monday, like most nights, but jumped out an hour or so later after I stumbled on a video made by a new friend (and yoga teacher) who demonstrated a different way into eka pada bakasana or one-legged crow. It's a pose I've found remarkably difficult. Until now, I always started in crow then tried to slip one leg out and up. I always dropped unsuccessfully to my knees or belly, convinced I lacked the core strength to find air.
But last night, I lifted my leg from a down dog position, fumbled once or twice positioning my knee on my upper arm and immediately went up. Boom. It wasn't as effortless this morning, but I'm on the road now.
My patience with the kids was tapped by 9:04 a.m. and when I looked at the clock, I thought, "Good god, this is going to be a long day."
Back to Home Depot for more bathroom tiles and this time I didn't need to separate anyone.
Someone lied about Halloween candy and no one would fess up so I chucked all of their bins. I expected histrionics but there were only a few unconvincing tears.
We stocked up on books next when we made our weekly pilgrimage to the library a few days early. Then after lunch, we ventured west toward the mountains and the middle of nowhere Virginia to a giant warehouse filled with wall to wall trampolines.
Turns out, I shouldn't have wasted the money to buy myself a pass because my back can't take the jumping. I bounced three or four times before walking back to the side, then watched jealously as the kids bounced themselves silly. I tried again a few minutes later but, nope. The pain was sharp and immediate and just like what I experience when I try to run.
I'm grateful as all get out that I can tie my shoes without crying and take my yoga practice as far as I have, but I'll admit to great sadness at the very long list of things I can't and likely won't ever be able to do again. Trying my best every day to accept the limitations gracefully. Like my yoga practice, I'll keep trying.