I did a yoga class at the gym today. Well, mostly did. I walked in slightly late--or rather, the instructor was doing a gentle intro slightly before the stated starting time. The larger problem was that there was too much I couldn't handle. He was very good, having made the point early that we could rest when and as needed, but I found it frustrating, not only the pose I literally fell out of, but the ones I knew I shouldn't try because they'd hurt and not work. (I can handle strain, even pain, in my exercise--but to have it hurt and not do it seemed pointless and too much.) At one point I was blinking away tears.
I went from not liking the pose called "downward dog" (because of the amount of weight it puts on my wrists) to being relieved when he had us go into that, because at least I can. Overall, though, I think it was good for me, and I'll probably go back next Monday. (This wasn't my usual gym--it was the branch
cattitude normally uses, which is convenient to
porcinea's home, meaning I went straight from tea-and-cat to yoga. At one point, stroking Trouble, I told him that if he made me miss yoga, that would be okay, because stroking cats is also good for me; but he was done with the lap in plenty of time.)
I went from not liking the pose called "downward dog" (because of the amount of weight it puts on my wrists) to being relieved when he had us go into that, because at least I can. Overall, though, I think it was good for me, and I'll probably go back next Monday. (This wasn't my usual gym--it was the branch