Downward Dog or Drowning Monkey

I had promised myself that I would exercise at some point today. My legs have felt a bit out of whack since my little jog on the treadmill and experimenting with a new thigh exercise courtesy of a teacher-friend of mine, so I opted for yoga. For many people yoga is this amazingly fluid and beautiful experience with a Zen shaker sprinkling good vibes. For me, it involves huffing and puffing and constantly telling myself that I may or may not get to that pose at any point in my life. I made it through 40 minutes, which was really more like 48 with two minute breaks between each 10 minute segment, and I have two major realizations. One - my hamstrings refuse to cooperate or give any indication of room for improvement. I'm like a little-old man whose legs won't straighten past 90 degrees once he bends at the hip. Two - I am nowhere - no. where. - near as strong as I used to be.

But again, the day didn't end without some type of energy spent, so downward or drowning, I'm satisfied.