Wine: 0.0
Stress Level: High. Too high. Way too high.
For years, I've vaguely understood that yoga would be good for me. It is pure and beautiful. Yoga tones the body and nurtures the soul. Dedicated practitioners glide around in their lithe little bodies, sinewy muscles rippling just enough to be sexy and feminine under their tank tops and tights. I so yearn to be one of them. But I don't like yoga. I've done yoga approximately four times. Each time with high expectations for a relaxing and profound workout experience. Each time disappointing myself in the first 2 minutes because I can't get the breathing right. Breathing! I've been doing it for 34 years -- it should be the easy part! But, alas, without fail, I'm breathing in when I'm supposed to breath out. I'm taking three short panting breaths for every luxurious relaxing breath the instructor takes. Soon the self doubt sets in. I've set aside an hour for a workout and I'm pretty sure I'm burning more calories from the worrying (about breathing) than from the yoga. Crap! How am I supposed to burn off my wine? How are yogis so damned skinny??? I've learned to accept that yoga does not relax me. Punching things relaxes me. Kicking things relaxes me. Running hard sprints has begun to relax me. Yoga is for people with a better sense of inner peace.
(Shockingly, this is not my idea of relaxation)
Until my damn boxing instructor made me question my hip flexors. I'll call him Pinch Your Butt, because it his solution to everything. Sore hip? Your hip flexors are weak; pinch your butt when you do squats. Sore knee? Your hip flexors are tight; pinch your butt when you kick the bag. Neck hurts? Do a dead lift; pinch your butt. What he means is you should focus on tightening your glutes, but "pinch your butt" is more pithy. According to PYB, simply boxing 6 days a week and running is not enough for stellar fitness and will lead to injuries. Because I want to stay healthy through training, I am reluctantly following his advice. I've been foam rolling, stretching, and weight lifting in the evenings. And yes, I've been pinching my butt on my dead lifts. Then I started reading a parenting memoir called Poser: My Life In 23 Poses. The author gains clarity through taking up yoga. On a whim, I tried to perform a pose she was describing, the eagle. I learned that no part of my body twists or bends in the way necessary to accomplish this pose. Surely PYB would approve of me incorporating yoga into my cross training! So I ordered Yoga For Runners. There was a beginner option, but in my mind I am not a beginner in any athletic pursuit, so I ordered intermediate.
(The Eagle. I cannot do that pose. Nor do I have abs like that. These two things may be related.)
I thought my DVD would arrive Wednesday, but it arrived Tuesday, which felt like karma. Let's talk about Tuesday. I welcomed Tuesday before dawn by chopping and sauteing onions at 5:00 am. Due to dance practice, I don't have time in the evening to cook dinner, so I needed to get dinner in the crock pot: palak paneer, yum! But not so yum at 5:00 am. Civilized people do not chop onions before the sun comes up. Then smoothies for the family. Then pack my stuff and off to the gym. Killer workout. Straight to work. Leave work early to get the girls and get home in time to get Daughter #1 to her 5:30 dance practice. While she is getting ready, I continue to frantically try to finish a couple more items on my work "to do" list. Husband #1 is out of town for the night, so Daughter #2 and I hang with Shoe Killer (remember her?) and her youngest daughter at dance class until 7:00. We mostly commiserate over how profoundly unglamorous parenting is. Rush home, get dinner on the table, clean the kitchen while the girls make their own lunches. Christ, my kitchen is filthy! I live with the morbid fear that one day something terrible will happen and emergency personnel or CSI will burst into my home only to be horrified by spinach-covered dishes strewn about over my sticky counters. You have to be prepared for all scenarios.
(Stop being judgy, Sarah Sidle and Nick Stokes. You don't know what it's like to have small children at home.)
Finally, the girls are settled into bed watching Netflix at 8:00 pm (yeah, I'm that parent) and I can break out the yoga DVD. The DVD is 82 minutes long. I figure I'll go for as long as I can. The package informs me I need a yoga belt. WTF is a yoga belt? I guess I'll skip whatever pose requires it. The menu options pop up and I resist the urge select "skip intro." One cannot be in a hurry when one is doing yoga. The intro was very helpful. It informed me to consult my physician (yeah right) and to do yoga on an empty stomach (crap, well, I ate Indian food, yoga's from ancient India, so maybe it is okay, maybe they meant don't eat a burger and fries). Then we began. Inhale and reach your arms to the ceiling. Score! I can do that! I'm totally a rock star. Soon, we exhale and fold our bodies in half to touch the floor. Wait. Should I be able to touch the floor with my legs straight? All the people on the DVD can. Uh oh. Then we go to plank. I can do that. I do that all the time. I'm practically a yogi. Daughter #2 comes in complaining that she wants to watch something else on Netflix. She stares at the options for about 3 minutes before I snap "just pick one!" (Not very yoga-like). Back to the yoga DVD for me. We go into a series of poses involving lunges. They both strengthen and stretch the hips. With each successive lunge pose, my legs shook and my femur felt as if it might rip from my hip socket. Every time we released into the downward dog, I thought I'd never felt any position so wonderful as a downward dog. It gently stretched my hamstrings and back while replacing my femur to its rightful place in my hip. Every time the instructor told me to step from my downward dog haven into another deep lunge, I silently cursed her (again, not very yoga-like, I know). It did not help that she kept reminding us to smile on the inside. I will not smile on the inside. Then we got to the lizard.
(I did not have an inner smile when my body was contorted like this.)
It did me in. I collapsed onto the floor, eventually spending the duration of the pose in the downward dog. I was ready to quit, but then we did pigeon pose. It felt divine. At that lovely moment, I'd been going for about 30 minutes and opted to quit while ahead. My hips felt weirdly painful, but looser and my back less compressed. And I was sweating. I've now been sitting for 45 minutes typing this post with no sciatic pain. This alone makes me think I should finish the DVD tomorrow. From there, well, we'll see. I'm still not sure it will make me a better runner, but I could stand to gain some flexibility. I am excited to tell PYB about my breakthrough tomorrow. I'm sure I'm in for a big fat "I told you so . . . And pinch your butt because your hip flexors are tight."
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