Surviving on Shavasana

NOT my butt. close, though.

Following up a perfect Sunday dinner of warm pumpkin soup, hot buffalo wings and steamy greens n’ beans at Royal Tavern with a little bicycle side-trip into a trolly track doesn’t make for a very nice Monday.  Or Tuesday.  And probably not Wednesday either.

Every bit of my left side from ankle to elbow is either bruised, abrased, scraped or swollen.  Ouch.

I know I should be happy that I’m just banged up and not broken or concussed (thank god for helmets) – but it really truly stinks when the only yoga pose you can manage is shavasana.

At least I can listen to this while I shavas:


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