The dance/yoga class is canceled for three weeks, then starting up again in March.
Power belly dancing was on hiatus while the instructor went to Hawaii; now it’s back for a while — until she goes to Egypt. The new start time is earlier than it used to be, so I spaced out and didn’t get to the class on Tuesday. Argh.
As you can probably tell, this is driving me nuts. I was so proud of myself for getting to three workouts a week, no excuses, but now I’m finding the schedule changes are making me crazy and cranky.
I considered trying out a yoga class at a new studio, and penciled two classes in on the calendar this week, but then I wimped out. I find breaking into a new class pretty stressful. I worry about things like will the teacher teach the whole hour using terms I’ve never heard before? Will the class be made up of model-thin 25-year-olds wearing strappy pastel yoga tops?
So I ended up in the dining room this afternoon, doing “trailer park yoga” on my own. I guess that’s the new schedule: If class is canceled, take that time slot and do 50 minutes of yoga in the dining room. While I have trouble pushing myself to do the fast aerobic vinyasa transitions, I can push myself to do the really long poses and long balancing moves, plus the weight lifting, so I’m definitely getting a good workout.