Spring Break Yoga Challenge: Completed.

Welcome back to College Park, fellow Terps. While I cringed slightly at the homogeneous stores and buildings lining Route 1 as my parents drove me to my apartment Sunday afternoon, I have to say that it feels good to settle back into the academic and social scene here at UMD. Sure, I still have a mountain of homework dwarfing me, but I’m telling myself that I feel mostly excited about the final weeks of my final semester as an undergrad.

As far as my Spring Break Yoga Challenge goes, I must admit that I completely forgot to yoga it up on Saturday. I guess between even more reality T.V.-watching, trolling through Barnes and Noble, and buying Bethenny Frankel’s new book (yes, Real Housewives of New York has had quite an effect on me), I just plumb forgot to do my yoga. That statement sickens me, but there it is. Like Bethenny, I, too, try to “own it.”

Sunday morning, however, I redeemed myself because not only did I attend an intense, hour-long class, I sneaked into it. Sort of.

My favorite instructor EVER (the one who taught the Boot Camp Yoga class I survived on Wednesday) let me into the gym to which I let my membership expire. She met me at the front desk after her first class, buzzed me in, and welcomed me to her 10:30 yoga class, a class I attended religiously for years, the first yoga class I ever took, actually.

En route to yoga

I have absolutely no remorse for cheating Bally’s Total Fitness out of a few dollars on Sunday. While I love this particular instructor, the rest of the Bally’s staff grates me with their apathy, listlessness, and general lack of manners. So this morning provided me with an excellent and productive opportunity: get some yoga in and stick it to the man.

Sticking my tounge to the man, i.e. my expired Bally's membership card

I realize that my desire to avenge my dissatisfaction with Bally’s by sneaking into a class under the discretion of one of their own is hardly yogic. However, I stand firm in my personhood, my worldly desires. I’m human. Rude twenty-somethings who work at gyms piss me off. Inhale. Exhale. I’m working on it.

Donning my stealthy face minutes before I sneak into class. Two words: Rebel Yogi.



But I’ve still managed to integrate some yogic philosophy into my life. I can safely claim that my attitude is one of immense gratitude. My instructor’s casual attitude about sneaking one of her devoted students into a class represents the warmth and inclusiveness of (most of) the yoga community.

I feel so grateful for the opportunity to attend this class because it helped me end my Spring Break Yoga Challenge with a bang. It was demanding, sweaty, and crowded-the recipe for an invigorating and cleansing yoga practice.

Success! Notice the gleam of perspiration on my forehead.


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