Moving On... But Where?

So yesterday was my first personal training session with Sonja at her new gym... 83rd Street, the steroid injection of Manhattan gyms. Muscles were everywhere, mechanical contraptions I cannot even fathom, guys grunting, and chicks tight as... well, tight. Sonja and I laughed through our session - she's become such a good friend, and she managed to kill a pinched nerve from a neck-cram 12-hour nap I pulled off to quash some major weekend partying.

At the end of our session - as Sonja stretched me out, she asked me: "So, you've only got like 15 days in your apartment. Where are you going next?" I stopped, and then felt the wave of anxiety build and then reverberate. "Oh yeah, I have no idea where I'm going. Thanks for reminding me. I'm still in denial," I thought. Leaving the gym, I almost had a panic attack.

Sonja also told me I'm beyond ready to "graduate" to the next yoga level, which I'm completely apprehensive about. I kinda liked destroying all the people in my current class. Now I'm just going to be the off-balance girl that everyone snickers at in the locker room while eating their protein bars...