To start, I neglected to notice that it was one of the heated classes. Most of the classes I've been to have been heated, but this felt different. It was that kind of thick, heavy, stifling heat where you feel like you can't catch a breath. And then you have to be moving while someone is telling you when to inhale and when to exhale. All I could think about was how great it would be if the instructor would walk by again because at last then there would be the faintest of faint breezes.
But the real reason it was more difficult than usual was because of the instructor. Usually at this level of class everything is nice and laid back with a little bit of this and a little bit of that. At this class we spent the first half doing abs. The first half an hour. Doing abs. And then we were supposed to be all, "Yay! Let's do some chaturanga dandasana and some chair poses! I don't feel at all like throwing up!"
I got back to the apartment, hopped in the shower, and tried to wash my hair. I say tried because I was so sore that I could hardly lift my arms above the waist. But I persevered. All so I could sit down and eat tortellinis and watch a guy juggling stun guns on the TV.