I’ve been a bad yoga teacher. A very bad yoga teacher. I’ve not practised what I preach. Remember in my last post I talked about everyone being able to fit in 15 minutes of yoga practice every day? Well, I haven’t.
Since December it’s all been a little crazy with family stuff, a new job and mucho college work and I’ve only really managed to practise at home once or twice a week. Rubbish, eh? And I can’t count teaching as I’m demonstrating and watching you lot, not actually ‘doing’ the class! Oh well, I am only human, I guess. And I have been swimming and running!
Part of the problem is space. And a suitable environment. As I sit and write this – during my first whole weekend at home since before Christmas – I’m surrounded by piles of washing, paperwork and dirty coffee cups. It doesn’t take much to fill up a one-bed flat, especially when you have a messy husband. (Sorry, Seb, but you know it’s true.) Am I making excuses? Yes. And if I’m honest it’s as much about having fallen out of the habit of a regular set-timed practice as it is about the confines of modern city living. So what to do? Well get right back in the saddle! Or on the mat, in this case.
The sun is shining and I have the whole day to get on top of things so next on my list, after writing this blog, is to tidy up the living room and do some yoga!
Then I’m going to eat the biggest lunch ever…
