Two nights ago I went to my first intermediate yoga class in a long time. After hitting a month's worth of beginner classes after an entirely-too-long absence from any yoga studios, I felt confident. It also didn't hurt that Mr. Blog Named Brew did the same intermediate class the prior week as a novice yoga student.
Oh. My. God. These chicken arms didn't know what hit them as I found myself in repetitions of down dog and high plank. Float my feet to the front of the mat? How about I take 19 baby steps to get there and stay somewhat in forward fold? After about 70 minutes of some serious yoga flow, I was utter jello. After another 12 minutes, I begged for mercy and curled into child's pose. OK, I didn't beg. I just crumpled into a heap and wiggled into position.
The funny thing about yoga is that I tend not to really feel the workout until two days later. That would be today. Sitting up is a challenge. I sound like an old man, grumbling and groaning every time I get up from my desk. I think my spine is trying to leave my body. I worry that I won't be able to feed myself dinner. Really. Worried.
You know what else is so intense? The Wrasslers XXXX Irish dry stout from the Porterhouse Brewing Company in Ireland. Could this really be my first beer in 341 days from Ireland? I checked all my records and indeed it is. Before I get into the beer review, take a gander at the cap on this one:
A pull tab on a bottle? I had no idea that existed. This may be one of the most unusual caps I've encountered. After peeling off the cap, I ended up with this:
I think this is a good beer. Cheers!