I turned twenty-nine today.

This post is not about that. (Although, just to be brief: MUWAHAHAHA SOON PEOPLE WILL TAKE ME SERIOUSLY!)

This post, instead, is about trying yoga.

See, I woke up feeling not-awesome Sunday, squinted at the universe, decided swimming would be really, really dumb* so instead decided I'd try out another of the yoga studios I had on the list.

*: Swimming would have helped the grunchy section of my hip and thigh, I think, but my ribs and shoulder, not so much. I've been coughing when I laugh again--got on the cancellation list to get the ribs worked on sooner

That one marked my third-ever yoga class, and was my second yin class. Restorative yoga's ten-minute poses weren't as helpful, since my bones started trying to settle into the shapes the pose had created for them, instead of my muscles going 'oh, hey, okay, so you want us to relax, right?'.

Over the next couple of days new year's celebrations happened, as they are wont to do, and I think I may have walked about three kilometers. (turns out I can walk home from 3rd and Forbes! Woo?)

Wednesday, there was another class I was mildly interested in--a stretch class with the studio founder--and I figured I'd see how I did in that one, and maybe stick around for the hatha flow class to see how I held up.

Answer: ye gods.

I, ah. I didn't fall over? And am really really glad I didn't try to go higher than a hatha flow class. Yow.

I am really unsure if I want to make that a habit. O.o;

But pilates has been going well (really well, to tell truth), so something else physically a bit scary might be in order.

( reaction breakdown of the flow class for self before I forget )