In February 2012, I was running the Austin Marathon and was on track to PR on what was, at the time, the hardest course I'd ever run. Just as I approached the mile seven marker, my right calf cramped. I stopped for thirty-ish seconds to work it out, and when it was nearly gone, I started running again, despite my calf's belligerent protests. Lessons learned? When you're running in Texas, hydration matters more. When you have a cramp, work it out completely. When you run nineteen miles with a cramp in your calf, the muscle tears, and that shit hurts. Badly.
A friend of mine spent the next two months trying to get me to yoga, and I spent those same two months happily obliging doctor's orders not to go... until one day, when I couldn't take the lack of sweat or the adrenaline rush of an elevated heart rate anymore. I gave in, quite begrudgingly, I should add. I walked in that studio in my running tights, a cheap mat that my previous home's owner left in the attic, and an expectation to once again (I'd tried yoga at my old gym a decade prior) be bored to bigger tears than my injury caused. I walked out an hour later, drenched in sweat and barely able to take a full breath, having learned my biggest lesson yet: I fucking love yoga.
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