Remember that Cat Steven's song: "Another Sat-day night and I ain't got nobody. I got some money 'cause I just got paid. Now how I wish I had someone to talk to. I'm in an awful way." Grammar missteps aside, that song was going through my head this morning, except it went more like: "Another Sat-day morn, and I'm up doin' yoga. I'm really tired 'cause I couldn't sleep. Now how I wish I was still on my pillow. Oh, that would be so sweet."
Here, if you need a little help: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aLeWB3C2cLo
"She had a strange resemblance to a cat named Frankenstein." Great stuff! I digress.
5:30, my friends, on a Saturday somehow feels wrong, but two things that get me up: 1. I have known myself for 32.5 years, and I know that if I don't get up in the morning and exercise first thing, I won't do it at all. Oh, maybe for a day or two, but not long-term. It's the crack of dawn or nothing. 2. I read once upon a time that it's not really good for your system to adjust your sleep schedule too much and too often. So, letting myself sleep until 7 wouldn't really have much benefit anyway. I might as well be working out.
So, I did. And it was Tony the Tiger Grrrrrrreat! I could see slight improvement over last time. My vinyasas weren't nearly as painful, and I could squeeze my elbows tight to my side with every chaturanga. Do I sound snobby? You have Google if you need help. Or, you could consult with Tony! Maybe next Saturday? 5:30? Sounds great.
Oh, and I sweat--sweated?--a lot more this time. Always a good thing for me. Well, good when I'm working out. Bad when I'm just sitting.
When all was said and done, I rewarded myself with a big, old, hot bubble bath, a mini facial and a cup of glorious legal addictive stimulant. I'm feeling good, my friends. Feeling good.
Day 11: Brought.
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