I couldn’t care less about whether my yoga mat matched my yoga pants but my hamstrings were shouting more than they’ve ever shouted before (and that’s pretty loud) and so I got over myself and toddled off to yoga at The Sherwood.
Hatha, Vinyasa, Ashtanga and Power. Pilates, Restorative….you name it they’ve got it. My whole world was transformed in the little studio above the restaurant. My back stopped hurting, my hamstrings settled themselves and I got to know my warrior two from my crouching tiger. I fell over a heap of times. I wasn’t laughed at (and when I was it was because I was laughing at myself) and I could wear anything I pleased. The fact was that it has become a regular slot in my week. A chance to slow it all down, sweat like a sweaty thing and work out what was hurting and what I should do about it. I didn’t have to know the words, I didn’t have to look ‘yogi’, I was welcomed into a world of some pain and hard work but also encouragement and slow-the-hell-down. There’s also coffee after in the restaurant. And cinnamon swirls. I’ll just leave that there.
Read the rest of this post at Queenstown Life.