It was the end of a long day. 

At the end of a long week.

At the end of a long month.... I could keep riffing on that but I think you probably recognize the tune.

We were approaching the end of the class, all standing in our best versions of Warrior III pose, and we had at least another 30 seconds to go.  Legs shaking, core trembling, ankles wobbling and arms aching, my inner yogini was threatening mutiny.  "This is SO hard." she hissed. "It hurts, it doesn't feel good and I can't do it anymore." Just as I was about to give in and drop into Child's Pose, Sundari (our yoga teacher) walked by.  She had been making her way around the room, offering support and encouragement. Sidling up to me, she stopped and said. "I know sweetheart, it's hard. And....just because it's hard, doesn't meant it's bad. It's just hard."  Then off she sauntered. Scanning my body to prove her wrong so that I could quit, I was stunned to discover that she was right. I could keep going.  It was just hard. 

So much of 'hard' is the story we tell ourselves about it.