Jello Legs

My legs are made of jello and my belly is full. This morning I went to my third personal training session, and it could not be less like yoga. First of all, there’s this other person (the personal trainer) who is not like my usual teachers.

Yoga teachers stand and roam. Their voices can hold you from a distance, guide you with an anonymous familiarity. I put on a calm face and yoga persona, and commune with the room. But with a personal trainer, it’s different. He’s right there. Distracted or attentive, he’s in your space. Watching you move and lift and breathe. The energy of the gym is pounding and bright. I find myself counting with my eyes closed. Breathing in much longer than the counted pace allows.

I know it’s healthy to leave your comfort zone, to challenge yourself in new ways. But for now it’s a jarring change. I keep thinking what a gift this is to my body and mind. How strong I am making myself. Strong, flexible, ready for anything.

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