The yoga truck

Craig warned us about the yoga truck. Sometimes it just hits you, leaving you dazed and wobbly. Other times it runs you over, leaving you twisted, broken, and squashed into the pavement. And sometimes after that, it backs up again and drives back and forth over your whimpering carcass a few times, for good measure.

I'm not there yet, but I've definitely been brushed in passing on a 4-lane highway. I have never been so tired in my life.

I keep falling asleep in anatomy class, which is unwisely scheduled at 12:15. Kathy, our substitute anatomy teacher, has an uphill climb, no matter how many jokes she tells or photos of her dogs she shows. I feel sorry for her. It's not personal. Right after morning class and lunch, we are expected to sit in a dark room and stay awake for slides of the skeletal system. Yeah.

It's even a struggle to stay awake during Emmy's lecture on pain, which is very relevant. Emmy is the principal of the school; she's in her 70s and can still stand on her knees in half lotus. She's one of the few people that lead the advanced Bikram class (84 postures, only open to certified teachers). She's also perhaps the only person that could kick Bikram out of class, which legend says she did once. For disrupting class too much.

I desperately want to hear this lecture, but keep waking up to find my notes trailing off the page.