Urban Sunrise Flow with Sara @ 6:30am – 7:30am @ Urban Yoga – Business Bay
Sweep away the cobwebs and get moving with a Sunrise Yoga class first thing in the morning! By 7.30am, you’ve already done an hour of yoga practice and are ready for the rest of the day. Pre-booking or cancellation required by 11pm the night before – at sunrise, if you don’t come, we won’t either…
Today waking up is easy, as it always is when you’re waking up for something you love, but my practice is a struggle.
I rush in to class, on the mat with a second to spare. I’m distracted, I keep losing my breath. My joints are stiffer, my legs feel more lethargic, my shoulders are achier and a persistent pain around my rib cage* doesn’t make things joyful. It makes my practice feel like punishment, and I hate that I’m thinking that about my practice, and then hate that I’m berating myself for hating a feeling. It’s a spiral.
*Side note: my doctor recently suggested that I may be suffering from a condition called Costochondritis – not dangerous by any means, but solved through some physiotherapy, which I do twice a week, and lots of yoga. Today it’s especially bothersome, and I try to give myself a break, knowing Im doing my best, but it’s futile.
I find myself drifting away from focusing on Sara’s voice. My mind does not want to chill the F out and this makes everything harder.
I revisit an old mantra… You have nowhere else to be; you have nothing else to do. I believe it was Dionne who engraved them in.
I try to feel better about myself, reminding myself that getting onto a mat, at 6:30 no less, is an achievement in itself. I tell myself what I’d tell a friend:
Doing something is better than doing nothing
I remember Omar’s words from Saturday… sometimes we take a few steps back and then we take some forward. This reassures me in the moment. I focus on my breathing, reminding myself that I am doing well, that this is an expression of love for myself, and for my practice, and that I should honour it by focusing on my breath.
Sixty minutes later, I’m grateful for my practice, and grateful to be done. As I wash the practice away under a hot shower, I think of savasana — the death of your practice. “RIP,” I think, ready for a rebirth and looking forward my next time on the mat.