Yesterday I went back to Bikram yoga after two weeks off (due to illness, mostly, which while it didn't last that long left a lingering cough and inability to breathe deeply, which makes hot yoga practically impossible for me). I was braced for a really tough session, having been away for so long, but it felt wonderful. I came home all filled with happy-body endorphins.
Today, though, I hurt beyond hell. And unfortunately, whatever psychotic part of my brain handles motivation will remember today's feeling and not yesterday's, no matter how much I try to convince it otherwise.