it’s therapeutic, knowing how much it’s going to hurt, how hard it’s going to be, yet finding something, somewhere, that makes you do it anyway.
it’s only 60 seconds.
it’s only 30 seconds.
it’s only 10 seconds.
holding a pose, telling yourself you can do it. embracing the struggle but knowing you will make it through. and it isn’t about anyone else. it’s just you, in that hot room, sweating out the struggle
and finding a sense of peace,
the relief in the release.
i can’t tell you why i stayed away so long.
in that room, it doesn’t matter who i am. what i wear. how i look. i’m comfortable. confident. ego turns to the pursuit of betterment. self-consciousness melts into every mind over matter balance, stretch and hold. i am all that i think in all the momentariness that makes up my class.
stay in the room, give yourself a couple of minutes. the world hasn’t changed, but you have. he said.
so i did. i practiced my counting in french and i stayed. i felt every part of my body relax into the mat. i felt the sweat roll down my arms into the already saturated towel. i felt the itch, ignored.
and i felt strong.
he was right. when i left the world hadn’t changed, but my spirit fluttered as i hopped on my bike and pedalled my heart out racing the darkness home.