I woke up early – still loving my winged-creature serenade to awake to – and went for a run. I didn’t feel like getting lost on just half a cup of coffee, so I stuck with the trail I found the first day.
At 8AM we had our first yoga session. As it turns out, the morning yoga is more active than the evening one.
Active enough to incite some digestive activity.
An observation: Only vegetarian food is served at the retreat. Which means that beans make an appearance at the buffet table quite often. Now consider the movements of yoga: a lot of twisting, turning and bending. In other words, a lot of internal massaging of bean-filled intestines going on in the room.
Flatulence is unavoidable.
After yoga, it was breakfast time and, on its heels, our writing workshop. After the first day’s humiliation, I was not looking forward to class.
(As you might imagine.)
Turns out, my self-confidence survived the day’s exercise (at least it was not entirely in shreds), but my body almost did not. I swear I almost had a stroke.
Have you ever had to speak in public – or do something similarly terrifying – and, despite some nerves, thought, after a few seconds into it, “Hey, I think I actually feel okay. I’m not as nervous as I thought”…just to have that thought abruptly cut off by a tidal wave of physiological response that left you in a heart-palpitating, quivering mass of sweaty flesh?
I have. And I did.
I prefer to call it the flush of post-literary congress rather than the precursor of a stroke…whichever, it left my head pounding for hours afterward.
Good thing I am at a yoga retreat and can practice some stress-relief techniques to deal with the pressure.
(Or maybe it’s time to play the get-out-of-class-due-to-timely-menstrual-cramps card.)