After yoga last night, our instructor made a couple of announcements. The first was just that she'd still have class tonight and tomorrow. I kind of tuned her out, as I'd already asked last week (I'm a planner). The second, though, hit me like a punch in the gut.
She's leaving Bally in two weeks. I would never have expected such a revelation to hit me as hard as it did. I fucking cried the entire drive home from the gym. Now, I'm a bit hormonal this week and just yesterday was on the verge of tears for some reason or another during the day. Perhaps that's the reason I felt completely gutted by her announcement.
Then again, this is kind of a huge change in my life. Wednesday yoga has been THE one constant in my life for the past two years. I suppose e-mails from The Boy I Currently Like have been the other constant. But that's different. My workout routine revolves around this one yoga class. Christ, I'd say my entire life revolves around that class. That might sound sad, but it is what it is.
I don't know what I'm going to do. Should Bally manage to find a suitable replacement, little will change. However, if they don't get someone or get one of their shitty Bally-trained instructors, I might have to look elsewhere. It's not that the Bally-trained instructors are all bad. The classes are always the same, though, and there's little variation. I was never really pushed in those classes; I didn't really ever learn anything new.
Renee is moving to the brand-spanking-new L.A. Fitness. Should her schedule include weeknight classes, maybe I'll start going there. I'm going to check into what kind of a discount I could get from my insurance. Last night, I did a little thinking and budgeting and if I ended up going to a studio for yoga while keeping my gym membership, I'd be paying well over $100. I take two to three yoga classes a week and at $10 a pop, that shit adds up fast. I don't want to go down to one class a week, so why not go to a more expensive gym? Bally is a fucking dump and I often hate it, so maybe it's time to move on.
Or maybe I should stop fucking panicking and coming up with a thousand contingency plans and just see what happens. My being a planner often leads me down these paths. I can go from zero to worst case scenario over the course of a paragraph. The Boy often marvels at my thought process when he can actually see things unfold like that in my writing. *sigh* I'm a freak.