I am not sorry that I went to yoga today. Or yesterday. Or the day before. 4:00 p.m. 8:00 a.m. 6:00 a.m.
I am not sorry that I chose to position myself in the coveted front row, after only six weeks of hot yoga practice. I focused on my postures, making adjustments, corrections, improvements. Sheer determination drives me forward. Imperfect body of stretch marks and loose skin cling, grasping to my frame.
I am not sorry for my in-room habits. I bring two towels, while everyone else brings one. Toward the end, at fixed firm pose, I cover my drenched towel with a dry one. The fresh feeling helps me finish out the class strong. I bring two water bottles. I now have specific points in which I drink the water: “party time” (the coordinate water break after the first three poses), before triangle pose, at the first savasana, before fixed firm pose, before head to knee pose. I hate half locust, often skip it, choosing to stay in savasana, even though I don’t mind full locust. I hate camel pose and if I’m having a bad day, I skip it too. Some poses come easily for me; I look forward to the stretch.
I am not sorry about making the various facets of my life revolve around my yoga practice, at least not right now. I need that time to myself. I need the release and break to keep my mind and body healthy and am unapologetic for it. The rest of the world can wait 90 minutes while I sweat out my emotions in the hot room.