Confession
On Sunday afternoon I was cold and bored and didn't feel like sitting on the couch and watching football with The Guy, so I decided to go take a class at the Moksha studio that is three short blocks from my house.
I've taken a few Moksha classes in the past, and while I've never really minded them, I've also never really found them to be anything really thrilling. I had such an amazing time on Sunday though. I loved it. I think it has a lot to do with having other people in the room. I've suddenly become a led-class slut....as in, I'll do anything to take a class with other people, wait, that still sounds sexualized and it's not supposed to....anyhow. I miss having the energy of other people. I'm thinking of *gasp* taking a couple Moksha classes a week. Blasphemous? Not to me. It's all yoga (it is, but that's not to say that I don't take issue with a number of things at Moksha, but I'm going to keep them to myself). And taking a couple classes a week with others motivates me to maintain my own practice at home.
My hamstring is feeling much better having taken Thursday, Friday and Saturday off from any practice. When those flare-ups occur, which isn't too often, they're very painful and, for me, the best cure is a few days of rest.
On that note, I've been thinking a lot about Ashtanga and injuries and how they're dealt with by Ashtangis. I have a lot of opinions on the topic, mostly surrounding the notions of attachment to the practice, physical progress and respecting the edge/what our bodies are telling us. But for the sake of peace and not starting any discussions that I know will only result in ruffled feathers and an agreement to disagree, I'm keeping these thoughts to myself.
Ladies' Holiday started four days early on Monday. It's been okay, thanks almost entirely to the medical marvel that is Ibuprofen (Motrin, I love you). I might practise after work today, it all depends on how I'm feeling. And can I just say that I hate having to wear business casual clothes during LH? All I want to do is put on some comfy yoga pants and not have to face the fact that I'm grossly bloated.
Our Halloween was uneventful. We carved a pumpkin, roasted the seeds and were warm and cozy in bed by 10 o'clock. It was the first time in years that my Halloween involved neither wigs, nor fake eyelashes, nor copious amounts of alcohol. I've never been so happy to be "boring." I'm loving my life.