Yoga, Downtown

This afternoon, in my semi-regular attempt to get (and remain) healthy, I went to the downtown yoga place during my lunch hour. Now, mind you, this took a tad bit of negotiation on my part, as the class is 90 minutes long - and most assuredly requires a shower at the end.

As I've mentioned, I am part of the wondrous machine called Los Angeles City Government, and bureaucratic types are generally opposed to two-hour lunches.

Stop laughing.

My boss, anyhow, is opposed to two-hour lunches, and I had to promise to make up the time. And I do. Really.

Anyhow, the class this afternoon truly kicked my ass... I haven't been going on a particularly regular basis - and it's rather amazing how quickly you lose whatever flexibility and stamina you've so painfully built up. Second, I have noticed that some instructors heat the room much more than others.

Even worse, some are fond of pumping up the humidity, making the place a tropical house of pain. And, damnit, there she was.

To be fair, of course, my pain today had much more to do with a lack of practice and an uncharacteristically wussified pain threshold than the heat.... But, damnit, it didn't help.