I've reached a point in my life where I just want to sit on my couch and either read, watch TV or tinker on the computer. The thought of being out among the living just doesn't have the same thrill as it did 20 years ago. And, in this day and age, being in crowded areas can kill you. Especially if more than half of that crowd doesn't understand the concept of using soap and hot water on their hands after using the loo. Or covering their mouths when they sneeze. Or chewing with their mouths closed. Or using their turn signals. Or realizing that skinny jeans don't look good on dudes and most women/girls.
Well, today I decided to stop the teeth gnashing, get back out among the living sans my hazmat suit and get back into Bikram. Over the past couple of months, I've been dealing with life, which is why I haven't been practicing. Like most folks do from time to time. The great thing about this return to sweatin' and stretchin' is that I now have a partner-in-crime: Ms. Rene Edde. Today was her first class and she "loved and hated it at the same time." Pretty much sums up all Bikram newbies' impressions for the first year or so.
It was a tough re-education this evening. I had nothing. No balance, no grace--nada, zip, zilch. Quite the pathetic sight. And at one point during Cobra Pose, I looked in the mirror and my hair was channeling the late-Johnny Ramone. Through all of the pain, sweat and stretchmark stretching I realized it's for a new 'do. Maybe this. Or this.
Also, never a good idea to do Bikram when one is gassy. That's all I'm sayin'...
