Since I moved here I haven’t pushed myself particularly hard, especially when it comes to exercise. I’ve been going to yoga infrequently and when I do go I’ve chosen the restful, inner-focus classes that are only mildly challenging. As in, don’t really break a sweat. Stress relief, yes; ab workout, no. So today I made a pact to honor my body with some real work. I just feel better when I’m in shape.
So I hurried home and promptly delivered myself to the wrong yoga location. The schedule on the door told me I could wait an hour for the next class or rush to the other location, which I did. I barely knew which class I was hurrying into, with my beach towel instead of a yoga mat, sans water bottle (in the car, of course). I’m barely in place when yoga boot camp kicked off. Let’s just say that when I returned the weights to the nice guy who loaned me his extras, I was embarrassed that I didn’t have a towel that was dry enough to wipe them down. The class was intense.
But the best moment came when we were doing a couple minutes of solid crunches, punching our weights in the air above us, and our soundtrack flips to this thumping club music. The guy next to me, who happened to be really into that song, starts singing. All the words. And my section of the room got the giggles, and before we knew it, we’d laughed our way through one particularly brutal set.
At the end of the class, when the instructor had calmed us down, she asked us to focus on something we were particularly grateful for. I couldn’t help but think laughter. I’m particularly grateful for the laughter that gets me through the hard parts. Not just joy, or happiness, but the belly busting, out-loud sound those make coursing through us.
Since there are ten days between now and Thanksgiving, I’m counting ten things, in no particular order, that I want to remember to hold in my heart with gratitude. Number ten: laughter.