“I did it. I really did it.”
That’s what I was thinking tonight as I was lying in savasana, tears streaming down my eyes. You know those tears. The ones that won’t stop. The ones that sort of roll down your neck while you’re lying down. Happy tears.
My breathing was even a little louder than I wanted it to be between sobs… but I didn’t care.
Tonight, I made my official return to yoga. And, I desperately needed it.
With my whole re-focusing for the new year, trying to “let that shit go” as I so eloquently shared in Monday’s post. I made a decision to get back on my mat as soon as possible.
I recognize that I’ve been pampering my injury with ice and heat and very seldom challenging the injury in new ways. Thinking I needed to strengthen that back of mine to get me back on track, I went to my VERY FAVORITE yoga class last night, and I loved every single minute of it.
I absolutely adore my yoga studio. I’ve been going there for about 2-3 years, and there’s a few instructors that just resonate with me. Last night, I spent an hour with Karen and 19 of my other dear yogis practicing gentle yoga.
The first yoga class I’ve been able to successfully complete in 110 days.
When I arrived at the studio, the class was pretty full and I had to take a spot in the very corner of the room next to the plants and a stand that holds yoga straps. I didn’t mind, and kind of liked being tucked away because I didn’t really know how the session was going to go. I also noticed there was a box of tissues right there. I didn’t think I’d need them, but wow, I did.
I was nervous. During my Thanksgiving practice, I felt tortured. I signed up for a “gentle” class, but in reality, it was a challenging vinyasa session… a class that had me out of commission and resting in child’s pose within the first 5 minutes. That Thanksgiving class, honestly, kept me out of the studio for weeks. I was afraid. Afraid that my next class would hurt again like that, and afraid that I would feel the way I did in that class again – – ashamed I couldn’t do the most basic of moves and crippled by my injury.
Last night, I decided that the only way to get past my fear was to go to a class I know, with an instructor I trust. And, I am so glad I did.
Yes, there were tears, but they were happy tears. Tears because I felt like I’d arrived home. Tears because I knew that I was going to practice again. Tears because this dumb back injury is not going to take my practice from me.
I’m beyond happy to be back on the mat. It will be a gradual return, but tonight was a HUGE start.