Sunday Love

I teach two classes at the health club on Sunday mornings: a step class that runs from 8:30-9:30 and a yoga class that runs from 9:30-10:30. I've been teaching these classes for years now - I forget how many, really - and nearly every single Sunday morning, my beloved has rolled over as I've snuck out of bed and made little coughing noises, indicating that I should call in sick and crawl back under the covers.

I won't say that I've not been tempted, particularly on cold, rainy (or snowy) mornings when the pull of the feather comforter is especially strong. Add to that the fact that Sunday is "pancake day" in my house - my husband makes breakfast of some of the best chocolate chip pancakes ever experienced by human beings - and I miss it. Sure, there are leftovers waiting for me when I get home, but it's just not the same. It's almost enough to make me stay in bed.

I don't call in sick, though, because - nearly every single Sunday for as long as I've done this - the people who come to my classes make it worth getting up and braving the cold (and missing the fresh-off-the-griddle pancakes). I have my "regulars" who, just by their presence, make the classes fun and rewarding. I've developed a sort of situational relationship with some of these people, and I really do look forward to seeing them each week.

Today, my step class was populated with seven regulars, and we had a blast. Strangely, the yoga class was packed today - 22 people in all - but several of them are people I see consistently each week. Two of them stayed after the class to tell me how much they enjoy it, how they look foward to it all week, and just generally conspired to make me feel glad about getting out of bed this morning.