I remember that music
The familiar music provoked an instinctual response to Kelly’s workout instructions held now at Foothills Recreation Center in Glendale, AZ. Following a year of relative inactivity, my figure resembles a blob, my muscles gelatin, my energy sloth.
COVID exacted a price.
Sore in a good way
How good it feels to move again. Two days after the workout, I was uncomfortably and reassuringly sore in all the right places. My muscles could still work. My repaired joints appear to be improving.
Understandably, my perfect yoga guide Noreen has opted to take time off, obliging me to find a new teacher and class. Thankfully she had implanted her voice in my brain, coaching me as I curl my limbs into awkward but healing poses. When the time comes that my body is placed in a coffin, it will reflexively relax into shavasana.
The world is opening up. The CDC’s confusing but positive guidelines assure me I can reenter much of society among a few friends. In class, we appear to be spaced apart well enough to avoid spreading contamination beyond our panting breath.
Exercising or being among friends. Each is restorative in its own way. Most invigorating, though, is exercising with friends.
It’s good to be back.