Yoga

The intention was there. The Sweaty Betty bathing suit was there. But even after ten minutes in the steamroom there was no way I could simultaneously move my arms and legs. Which makes swimming kinda impossible. Even Phelps wouldn't be able to. So no swimming after my yoga class. I do like yoga. I like coming to class early and lie on my mat for ten minutes in complete silence. I like turning and twisting and stretching myself. I like the feeling after a good workout. But when the instructor said this would be a vigorous class, I was getting worried. He may have been on hols for three weeks, the class hadn't! I wasn't the only one struggling, but I was by far the most inexperienced of the people around me. Not only did this class get my hard racing more than I bargained for, but the positions! Don't know what they were all called, but picture standing on your left foot, with the left hand on the floor, right leg stretched towards the ceiling and twist your body as if you were in between two close walls and then look at your right hand pointing to the ceiling. Get it? I didn't.

So no swimming today. Instead I will go into town for a nice lunch, read the paper in a park and meet Canadian Danielle from the Dam for dinner and a show. Well deserved.