So, I went to yoga again today. And Sean was back from his hiatus. I'm so glad Sean was back from his hiatus. He's by far my favorite instructor, followed closely by his wife, Karen. They both combine hard workouts with more rest periods than the other teachers. The intensity is higher in Sean/Karen's classes, but I feel more restored walking out of class because they've given me a proportionate amount of rest to go along with it. I guess that's what being the owners of the studio will do for ya. (For the record: I like Sean more b/c he does more strength than Karen, and he's freakin' hilarious.)
Anyway, today was packed. Sean's classes always are. Anyway, it was one of those days where there was about 3 inches between each of the mats throughout the entire studio. The spot next to me was empty until about 5 minutes before class, when a very harried Asian woman about my age rushed into it. You could tell she'd had a bad day. You could tell she needed yoga. We struck up a conversation about how she was a beginner, and then class began.
At the end, we chatted some more. And it came out that she's from my hometown in Indiana (not hard -- I'm from Indianapolis), and we know some of the same people. She taught swing dancing with my college roommate. She's living about a block from me this summer, and is starting med school in the fall. So weird.
Learning how to be more thankful
4 days ago