What do I have to say about the trip? Well, first of all, I like San Diego. 8/10, would recommend to a friend. I have a little tan now. Looks good.
But oh my god, the first hot yoga class after a work trip. No. NO.
I went to hot yoga yesterday, because I knew I had to sweat out some toxins from days of expense account eating and Teamster drinking. I thought "oh man, I bet this class is going to be kind of rough." I should add that I was also fighting a cold, so I felt a little achey and a little sore throat-y.
But I seriously thought I was going to die in there. F***.
I had zero balance -- I could barely stand on two legs, much less one. I had zero flexibility. Zero strength. I was shaking like a leaf and sweating like a pig. Every time we did a back bend, I would have to get out of it after like two seconds and then sit there like an idiot watching everyone else easily do what I was completely incapable of.
By the time class ended, I think I would have paid someone $20 to roll my mat up for me. Do you know how hard it is to roll up your mat at the end of a hot yoga class? You're done, and all you have to do is clean up your area and then you can go out into the lobby where it isn't 105F anymore. And because that yoga mat is the only thing standing between you and comfort, of course it's going to be the biggest dickhead in the entire world.
First it's stuck to the floor. Then it doesn't want you to start rolling it. You finally get it going, but it decides to roll all f***ed up and diagonal. You don't care -- you just want to get out of there. You pick up your diagonally-rolled mat and your towel. As you reach for your water bottle, you drop the mat and it unrolls halfway.
F*** dude.
F***.
I need coffee or something. I'm exhausted again just from reliving that yoga class.
Here is a picture I drew. It's a shark centaur. I don't effing know. Happy Friday you pieces of shit.
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