Have you ever seen a walrus sweat? No, neither have I.
That’s until I took a good gander at the photos from last “Caturday”, when I partook in a yoga challenge/fundraiser.

Jesus, when did I get so fat?!?
Time to quit making excuses and get back into a hard riding routine. Otherwise I’m liable to contract a bad case of “Secretary Spread” in my new gig.
(I’m really writing this entry so Orchid can let me off my stickk contract, but I don’t see any relief in sight).

My fellow yogini and pal Kerrie decided that one more sex-trafficked girl was too much, and she was gonna make us all pay $108 AND do 108 sun salutations for the cause.
After several months of planning and networking, everything came to a head and I unexpectedly found myself front and center of the fray. My inexhaustible mat and I at the base of Walter Pyramid, facing a three-hour trial.
One hamstring-soul-crushing solar overheated salutation at a time.

But I did it, and you know when they say, “I got out of it more than I gave”?
Amusingly enough that’s exactly what happened.
Twelve yoga teachers where there to lead the practice, and I’ve had the pleasure of knowing and learning from six of them.
It brought up memories of my own practice.
My yogic history on my beautiful mat, which, by the way, was a gift from the late great Leticia Corral. I suspect she purchased it at the Marshalls in Montebello.
All the hours of dedication. The smiling through the struggle. The ego driven frustrations, and the final success through letting go. Let’s not even talk about how it took me an entire year to gather up the courage to tackle an Ashtanga class.

I know who I am when I’m practicing. All those parts of me which I generally dislike, question, or distrust just don’t exist.
So I was once again reminded of why I’m destined to be a yoga teacher and re-directed towards mine own golden path.
Other than the obvious fact that I’d KICK ASS AT IT.
Hey, I’m just sayin…