Last weekend was glorious Pride Weekend, as well as the annual Front Runners New York LGBT Pride 5 miler in Central Park.
As I’ve stated in the past, I love this race. Regardless of the heat, everyone is in great spirits, the misting stations are out in full force, and there are popsicles at the finish.
Unfortunately for me, however, I pulled my left plantar fascia en route to the start. And because I’m an idiot, I raced instead of going home to ice it and take care of it.
Thankfully, the race went fine, and Lefty Lew didn’t bother me a bit. I even PR’d.
Sunday, however, was a different story. The nagging twinge in my left foot was noticeable, so I rolled it out and did—performed? what is the right term here?—a bit of yoga.
And what poor timing with my upcoming trip to Miami, in which my comrade and I have expressed that we’d like to get somewhat in shape.
So, in an effort to “get jiggy with it” and not “jiggly with it,” purchased a Groupon for a month of unlimited yoga classes at Yogaworks, which has several locations in the city.
On Tuesday morning, we went to our first class, the Yogaworks Vinyasa Flow 2. That ‘2’ stands for the level, out of 3, which I thought appropriate as I’ve been practicing yoga for several years.
Thirty minutes into the class, I was sore all over and sweating profusely. I realized that, when I’m doing a workout at home, I can sort of half ass a pose (or all poses), while His Lordship thinks I look all hot and yogi-like. The half-assed poses could not happen in the studio, where my teacher was straightening my legs.
My body started to shake.
After class, I spent the remainder of my day sore and tired in my cubicle. (And I wasn’t showered. Sexxxyyyy.)
On Wednesday morning, we attempted our second class, the Yogaworks Cardio Flow 2.
I don’t know if I felt internally stronger (probably not) or if the Cardio class was easier (probably so), but I wasn’t shaking nor sweating as much as I was yesterday morning. And I actually attempted crow pose for a full second and a half. (Score!)
I’m sure I won’t d0 a headstand come next Thursday. But maybe, maybe, I’ll show some semblance of a flat stomach.
Just flat enough to make it re-inflate (a word?) with alcohol and Cuban sandwiches.