The studio in NW Portland was packed with sweating, half naked, beautiful people. I fell over about six times trying to keep up. The heat was unbearable. I had to lay on the ground to catch my breath. But something kept pushing me back up to join the class. Call it pride, call it internal drive. Call it what you will but the motivation took hold of me. I powered through the class – something that I’ve since discovered is the exact opposite of a good way to go.