Today's workouts were supposed to be low-stress and recovery-driven.
I didn't realize that until after I was done with them, courtesy of a gentle reminder from Coach Gerardo.
The order for the day was yoga in the morning and an optional bike spin whenever I could fit it in. Total workout time would be two hours. Which is a lot during a work week, at least for now.
The only way I could juggle the schedule was to take an intermediate flow yoga class that was beyond my comfort zone at 7 a.m. I actually kept up through most of it and really enjoyed the trance-like experience of repeating multiple sequences (plank, cobra, downward dog, repeat, etc.). There was definitely something hypnotic about a rhythmic series of movements shared with several people, though I overlooked the breathing part more than I should have.
Then, we got to inverted poses. Handstands.
The only thing in my world that should be inverted is Maverick when he's pulling Mach 3 with his hair on fire as Russian MiGs try to shoot him out of the sky. Then, and only then, should something or someone be inverted. But certainly not me. And certainly not after I've recently digested a Cliff Bar and a full water bottle.
Then again, there's an interesting analogy here. I spent about 15 minutes just getting comfortable with the idea of spinning my legs upward against a wall, with my arms supporting the rest of my body weight. I only got close a few times to an actual handstand. Once again though, I realized it's the journey that matters. It's the process of trying. It's dealing with the frustration, the fear of falling, the fear of embarrassment. And pushing past that. Through it. Around it. Over it. Beyond it.
I'm sore from the yoga session, but excited to go again and try to make some progress next time. Like my swimming. Or getting on the bike again after crashing.
The deeper I get into this sport, the more I believe it really should be called try-athlon.
301 days and counting.