The Aftermath of 30 Days of Yoga

30 days of yoga

Last year, my dear friend and kindred spirit posted on this very blog about a commitment she had made to attend 30 day’s worth of yoga classes.

I basically live my life in constant awe of the things that Sarah does and this was no exception.

So, because I am a massive copycat, when my own yoga studio in London rolled out an offer of a thirty day class challenge, I signed straight up.

I’ve written before about my past experiences with yoga – how hard it was to go back after a year off and my acceptance in that this type of exercise may not be something I ever get good at.

Well, I apologise in advance, but you’re probably going to continue to hear about it in the future. After nearly a month straight of yoga, I am hooked once more.

I knew I’d never make it to thirty days straight – I already had plans to venture off to Morocco and we were heading out to Miami before the month was up.

That being said, I went almost every day that I was in London – even when I had a twelve hour work shift ahead of me. I fell down a bit in the tail end of the month, as I got hit with my second cold in a month (will winter end, already?), but I still managed to attend over 20 days.

At first, it was an ordeal. Despite my good intentions of late last year, I’d been waylaid by both illness and the festive season. Honestly, if I had a pound for every time I’d stared down my yoga mat while being back to square one, I could afford at least three brownies.

It wasn’t until I was back from Marrakech (which I suspect had given my poor tortured body some time to recover) that a switch flipped. I could plank without my arms giving out. I could chaturanga without using my knees for the first time in two years. My shoulders had loosened up to the point where I could do a bind. I could move into a half-lift balance without falling flat on my face. I have the beginnings of small biceps forming on my arms (I cannot even begin to tell you how good this makes me feel).

The differences aren’t just physical either. I got to bed when I’m tired now and fall straight asleep. I can meditate for five minutes straight without batting an eyelid. I’m still anxious when travelling, but I freak out a bit less now about day to day things.

And best of all, it’s helped me fall in love with my life and the city I call home. That alone has been worth the month long investment.

Don’t worry – you won’t see any photos of my prancing around in Lululemon tights and pulling natarajasana’s on the beach.

Or, will you?

That’s what I love about yoga. When it comes down to it, it’s just you, your mat and a world of infinite possibilities.

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