My friend Shannon, whose photos you've seen on this blog, has an annual yoga birthday party. I was flattered to be invited this year. But if you know me at all, you know that yoga and all that it embodies-- balance, flexibility, calm-- well, they're not really my strengths. I'm good at talking loud. I'm good at drinking for long periods of time. I'm good at falling & bouncing back up & acting like nothing happened. But yoga? So I warned Shannon and her sister and a few other people before the class that I was going to be horrible. [Note: setting low expectations-- that's also a strength of mine.] Anyway, the party was at Om on the Range, a lovely yoga studio. If you're in Chicago and into yoga, check it out: http://omontherange.net The type of yoga was Baptiste (power vinyasa yoga). That means really, really hot. Shannon had warned me and I'm Panamanian, so hot was fine by me. The class was fine. It was great actually. People were twisting and turning. Shannon was doing headstands. But me? I was sweating my balls off. And had to take several breaks so as not to pass out. And found myself hopping through a lot of the poses. And the highlight? When I tried to do a backbend, lost my footing and, yes, fell flat on my back. Giant thump. The instructor said something about the mat being slippery and getting me a towel. I assured her that, "No, I just fall a lot". Yep, me & yoga still not going hand in hand. I still have no sense of balance, no flexibility. That's my cross to bear.
Post yoga was lunch at Uncommon Ground, a yummy spot that I've been to before but now has a new location. We went there and I had fish tacos. The fish was fried. There were avocados in it. And some sort of creamy dressing. I was back to my inner balance.
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