An Annoyed Yogi

I didn’t want to go to yoga yesterday.

I love yoga.

I really do.

And yet, I didn’t want to go.

I know it’s good for me. I always feel better afterwards. I pride myself on being a yogi.

I like to do it at least three times a week. Four, if I can.

Sometimes I do that. Sometimes even more.

Lately, it’s been hard to fit it in with my extra busy work schedule and both my daughters’ full volleyball schedules.

For this season, I have committed to at least once a week.

This has been an achievable goal, until last week when I missed it.

I reserved my spot, but when the time came to go, I told myself my time would be better spent doing more work. I decided to catch up on emails and home administration while sitting on the couch. I talked myself out of yoga. I told myself this was me giving myself a break. This was my way to find the time to accomplish other things. I gave myself more hustle instead of the real break I needed. Looking back, this wasn’t the best choice for me. It set me back in a few ways.

This week, I blocked my calendar and reserved my spot for class. I had the best of intentions to “get back on track”. I was woken before my alarm went off. I wasn’t tired…