I leave my house in good time for the 4:30pm yoga session. As I’m waiting to cross the road, I see my bus dashing by. Yes, miss it. It’ll be a another eight minutes for the next one. At the same time, I spot another bus approaching a near-by stop. My low-rise harem jeans make it a bit difficult to run, but I make it. So pleased with myself.
After a while I’m startled. The bus driver must have taken a wrong turn. Towards Kingston? No! I want the opposite direction. I need to get to my studio. It’s my 23rd consecutive day in my 30 Day Challenge and the 4:30 session is my only option today. I hop off the bus, almost get run over crossing the street. When will I remember to look right first? The next bus arrives in eight minutes and it’s another 10 before I’m right back where I started. I wait. Sweat is dripping underneath my heavy winter coat. First time wearing it. No buses to be seen. Frustrated.
I call my husband. Get the Mini on steroids on the road and take me to the studio. Please. There’s still a chance. Until traffic happens. The kind of congestion you forget while living in Finland. The clock is ticking faster than I want and we are not moving much. When I finally arrive at the studio, the entrance door is locked and the staircase dark. The sign says “Class in progress”. Absolutely gutted.
I have other plans for later on. In the end, I decide to cancel and do the 6:15pm yoga class instead. Disappointed for messing things up. Kill some time. My favourite artisan cafe is closed for the day. Despite the fancy equipment, the chain coffee shop’s soy cappuccino is a weak performance. I resist the urge to go up and tell them to get acquinted with some proper barista techniques.
Second time around I reach the studio in plenty of time. Get a great spot on the second row, next to the mirrored side wall. Relax on my mat, finally ready for my 23rd session. I don’t even mind the tall lady who squeezes her mat right in front of me and completely blocks my view. I disregard her fidgeting. She keeps changing her position. Her tempo is different from the rest of us. Rubato, perhaps? I breathe slower. I’m right here.
At the end of the class, the teacher reminds us to congratulate ourselves. “.. Because showing up for class is the most difficult part of the yoga class.” Tell me about it.