Mrs. Gias and I agreed this morning that our bodies were screaming for a respite from our workouts. We had destroyed our shoulders on Sunday; I ran six miles later that day. Monday we we had our roughest Insanity workout to date. Tuesday we blasted our back and biceps with innumerable pull-ups and curls, then I went for a mile long swim and a twenty mile bike ride yesterday evening.
This morning, from head to toe, we were broken.
We slipped into the quiet calm of our basement, the sun still lost in its evening slumber, the waning gibbous moon still shone brightly through the crisp morning air. We started slowly, bending, twisting and reaching through our asanas; each action stretching those sore muscles, each movement more fluid than the last. Our yoga was focused this morning, our breathing clear, our practice nearly silent. Nearing the end of our 90 minutes, a thin layer of glistening perspiration started to glow as the sun began to rise and bathe us in its radiance through the east window.
If there is anything more relaxing than yoga at sunrise, I haven't had the pleasure. I am still tired, still fatigued, but not broken.
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