Oh my. I think this blog needs some Female Influence. No offense, Martin. Your 'Windows Server 2003 with IIS 6' and 'Response Write FormatDateTime( Now(), 2)' is very impressive but you need to sit down. Good grief, what does that even mean? Ouch.

Anyway, for all you NORMAL EARTHLINGS: you're welcome.

While I wait for my meds to kick in on the inflamed knee, I've decided to jump back into the Bikram Yoga. I don't know why. I hate myself? Maybe that's it. I think because it's the easiest access and most familiar of the yoga studios in my area. I've been debating going to Santosha Yoga in Madison Park but I missed their beginner session, at least until next go 'round in March. So, let's sweat our brains out, ya'll!

I haven't been doing much (read:any) exercising in the last month and a half so suffice to say, I'm Rusty. But Sweet Pickles, I didn't think I needed a tetanus shot.

I had to get psyched to go to class. I was pumped around noon on Monday, hydrating, looking forward to the strenuous concentration that class would surely bring but quickly lost my focus around 6 when I finally got home. And was hungry. You aren't supposed to eat before class. Empty stomach is best. 105 degree heat & twisting yourself into a Fisherman's Knot tends to curdle anything in the guts. Go figure.

I entered. I picked my place in the front cause it actually helps me to see myself in the mirror. I smelled the smell. The carpet-sweat, warm yeast smell. The one I'd been complaining to Martin about ever since I admitted I was thinking about going to class again. "It's the SMELL! I can't abide!" It's not BO, it's slow-simmered lycra bodysuit with crystal rock deodorant stick. It's not rank. Like, "Whoa, who's got the funky sweatsocks?" It's a damply-aged internal brew. It permeates your yoga mat and towel. It's insidious. A sweaty, sweaty, smell. Dog Carpet. It's dog carpet. That's the best I can do.

Slowly, it all became very familiar. Taking my cleansing breaths at the beginning of class, I immediately wanted to leave. Just like every other time - huzzah! I hung in for about 4 asanas and then felt the room spinning and had to lay down on my towel. I took great pride in being the first to hit the deck because not 5 seconds later, 6 others laid down, too. Holding out, not wanting to be the first loser. I have no problem being a loser. I learned that Loser Lesson the hard way in 2000 in Tai Chi class at Naropa University. Remind me to tell that story later. Fun times. No, I'd rather swallow my pride than faint, thankyouverymuch. I realized the place I had laid my towel was near an air vent that, when I laid down with my head near it, was blowing sweet cool air straight from baby Jesus. A tiny rogue force in the face of the satanic heat poaching my body . Would it be wrong to press my face against this vent? To french kiss this vent? Oh, whatever. I got up, did a few more poses and then had to lay back down again. A little closer to the vent this time. I repeated this ridiculousness for the rest of class. At least until we got to the non-standing portion. Where at least, I figured, I was already on the floor. Not much harm in that.

I just could not hang today. True, I hadn't been to class for over 6 months. I bought the 5-class punch card so I have at least 4 more to go. I have to find my motivation even if it's financial.