Thursday, March 15, 2007

Internal quiet

I had an awesome yoga class yesterday. Some days – as my instructor always hammers into our impressionable little heads – yoga is a lot easier than others.

Yesterday is one of those effortless classes that I would love to duplicate. If I could, I would put a copy in my pocket, frame another for my wall and post it on MySpace and Facebook for old friends to be envious of.

After class, I felt awake and alert and generally awesome. I tackled the menial day’s more menial tacks – laundry and dishes and all of that – without so much as a care. Then I blogged happily and climbed into bed.

I read a few chapters of my book and, upon finishing a chapter, I held my breath and tried to figure out what, exactly, felt different. I’d since come down off of my yoga class high, it wasn’t that.

I realized, with a dumbfounded smile to myself as I exhaled, what it was.

I didn’t hurt.

As athletic and as busy as I am, I am accustomed to a life with constant, nagging aches. And last night, for the first time in what seems like years, nothing hurt. It was like the creation of the perfect storm: no hockey game this week, the massage I had two weekends ago and a really great yoga class combined together in a mixture that left me happy, pain free, and fucking shocked.

Today, my hamstrings hurt a bit.

Sorry. I should've kept that to myself. I couldn't resist.

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