Going With the Flow

I was determined to go to a yoga class today. It was part of my morning plan: teach a yoga class, do some PT at the gym, come home for a conference call, go to the yoga class (as a student), come home for lunch.

But, sometimes, plans have a way of falling apart.

A not-so-restful night led to a rushed and achy morning, with no time for my pre-teaching sun salutations. The class I taught went well, although demonstrating upward facing dog without my usual warm up made it quickly apparent that my hips are a bit out of whack today.

Some PT work helped realign me, but the extra alignment exercises started eating up my time. The walk home, in the 90+ and feels-like-100+ heat, was a slower-than-usual slog. And then, the conference call, while productive, also ran a little longer than I had planned.

But I could still make it to class. I just needed to hurry. Grab my things and go.

With the clock ticking, I skipped filling a water bottle (because I can buy water at the studio) and grabbed my yoga bag—only to realize that I had forgotten to pack a clean towel and hair ties. Quick dash back up two flights of stairs, where I started to feel that hitch in my hip/back again.

But I could still make it to class. I just had to hurry.

Rushing back down the stairs, I ran out to the car, fumbled for my seat belt, started to back the car up, and—thump. Forgot the garbage cans were behind my car. No problem. Jumped out of the car to move the cans. Jumped back in the car and reached for the hand sanitizer in my purse (because garbage cans). But—no purse. And no purse meant no wallet, ID, or money for water. (sigh)

But I could still make it to class. I just had to hurry.

Jumped back out of the car, really feeling the oppressive heat of the day. Ran back to the house and stopped at the bottom of the stairs. I could still make it. I just had to run up those stairs, ignoring the twinge in my back, grab my purse, run back down the stairs, hop in the car, and, hopefully, miss every red light on the way to the studio.

But I didn't run up the stairs. I didn't even walk up the stairs. I stopped and took a breath. I closed my eyes and felt the sensations in my hips and back. I asked myself if a vinyasa class would really serve me best or whether my body would be happier with the slower flow of a home practice. Maybe sweetening the deal with some added restorative poses and an extra long savasana.

And it was still a hard decision. Because I'd made a plan. I still wanted to follow the plan. I didn't want to "fail" at following the plan.

But maybe that plan needed to change. Maybe I needed to go with the flow.

So I went back outside, shut off the engine, retrieved my yoga bag, locked up the car, and went back inside. I poured myself a big glass of water, unrolled my mat, and chose acceptance.

Maybe I could have made it to class. But maybe it was better to adapt.

I closed my eyes, telling myself that the studio will still be there another day. Accepting that I wasn't "failing" at my plan. I was just listening to what I really needed—right now—and going with the flow.