The parking lot outside my health club is, as always, dog eat dog, and by the time I find a spot, I'm sure I've lost out on prime classroom positioning. I may end up next to the Grunter, which would, I have to say, harsh my mellow. But in the spirit of the yogic tradition I choose not to view my exasperated state as a negative thing. Instead, I congratulate myself for my good judgment in getting to this yoga class on a Sunday morning at the godless hour of 9:15.
I am a conscientious but nondenominational exerciser, and coming to...
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