Gratitude Monday: namaste

At last.

On Tuesday, I finally was able to get down on the floor (and back up again). It wasn’t pretty, but I did it. Which meant that Friday I had my first yoga lesson in four weeks.

That’s the longest break I’ve had from yoga since I started taking lessons in the first July of the pandemic.

Man, I’ve missed it.

(With my first knee replacement, I was up to yoga in two weeks after surgery. I’m somewhat disappointed and frustrated that it’s been twice that, but here we are.)

Normally, we hold the lessons via Zoom, but to ease my way back into it, my instructor came to my house, which was an extra treat.

Here’s the SITREP:

Table position, with a metric ton of padding.

Very slow and kinda clumsy sun salutes; downward dog, yay; lunges, boo.

Forward folds (such gooooood stretches!).

Not-quite-melted-heart.

None of that crossed-legged or figure four nonsense—maybe in two or three weeks.

Tree pose—couldn’t get the left leg above the right ankle, but my instructor says that the height of the foot doesn’t matter; the balance does. So I’m back to tree-pose-of-some-description every morning.

Bridge at the wall.

And my favorite (well, one of them): plough.

I am so, so grateful to have such a good instructor, and to be able to do some of the poses. Also—looking forward to getting better, stronger and more flexible.