This morning's Mysore class was marred by the existence of two Futzers (people who dawdle), two Researchers (people who prep and prep and prep -- often with second series poses -- before going into a primary series pose) and two Free-Formers (there have been some minor skirmishes here between straight-up Mysore folks, who go by the book -- the book being Yoga Mala -- and those who see fit to add and subtract from and otherwise "improve" upon the practice of ashtanga yoga in their so-called Mysore classes... which means you get many different interpretations of the practice in Chi-town). In any case the Free-Formers were across from me, which meant there was no Dristi or inward focus but much marveling at their unique versions of the primary series... which in one case meant no vinyasa whatsoever, loud, earth-shaking jumping and backbend after inversions -- and which included Garudasana (Eagle pose) and various power yoga moves rarely performed outside of NYC's Om and Jivamukti studios.
At least there weren't any Locomotives (those distracting practitioners -- usually male -- who have no apparent inhale and force out their loud, short, violent exhale like Thomas the Tank Engine negotiating a steep, steep hill).
That said, it was good to practice at all, what with the sore back, tight hamstrings, hint of a cold and a demoralizing week dealing with Editors Who Can't Stand Me. (Did anyone else notice that yesterday was a full moon, Good Friday, Purim *and* the Hindu holiday of Holi? And earlier in the week it was the Persian and Bah'ai New Year!). So I could barely go into backbend today -- At least I was there. And, in the neverending month that is March (more on that soon), sometimes that's enough....