Namaste?

I was close to being in shape once.  Yes, once.  Precisely once.  And sadly, it wasn’t long ago.  But bacon was too tempting.  Then I started in with the soda.  And the cheese!  Oh, I curse he who invented cheese!  So I am now trying to undo the damage that I have wreaked upon myself in the last 4 months. 

I do not make New Year’s resolutions because I lack the unique ability to follow through.  But I decided that I should easily be able to get back in the gym and regain my strength and stamina relatively quicky.  Right?  I mean it has only been 4 months.  Prior to that, I was jogging, lifting weights, practicing my beloved Bikram Yoga and attending the occasional spin class. 

So yesterday I went to the gym.  I was so proud of myself.  I smiled at random gym goers, put my keys in a locker, inhaled the energy and went into the special smaller gym (aka a gymette)  just for women.  (It’s not as weird as it sounds.  It’s just quieter, and trust me, I need help focusing.)  I plopped down and started what used to be my standard, pre-workout stretch.  Holy snap, crackle, pop batman.  I used to just stretch for 10 minutes, then I was off, but yesterday, I think 10 minutes had gone by by the time just one hamstring felt at least warmish.  I had visualized myself jogging for a bit, doing a few machines to focus on my expanding rear, getting in a great ab workout…you know, being fit.  But all I did was stretch.  For 45 minutes.  How can it be so hard to come back after a 4 month stint as a computer potato (I’m not much into tv, so I can’t really be a couch potato.  But give me my laptop and…). 

So I left with my primordial tail between my legs.  At least I tried. 

 This morning, I decided to tune in to the much neglected tv channel, Fit TV.  No oppressive gym environment.  No male grunting, no females babbling on about boob jobs.  Only an antsy poodle who won’t stay on his bed.  So I did mat pilates first.  Well, actually, did is a bit misleading.  Attempted.  Have you ever tried a tv-based fit class?  If you have, you will immediately understand when I say, commercials?  Really? 

So the instuctor had me into the groove, I had just completed a few standard pilates moves and was ready for more.  Then she had me rolling like a ball, another standard pilates move, when she said “Keep doing this and we will be right back!”.  And it went to commercial.  Ok, no problem.  How long could a commercial be?  So I was rolling.  Back and forth.  Breathing.  When my poodle decides that I must be stuck and pounces on me. 

“MAX!  Get on your bed!!”   Deep breaths…focus.  I gave him the evil eye to reaffirm the command.  I was in agony.  Did you know they managed to muster a 4 minute commercial?  Does the network know that I am stuck in a rolling ball?  Where is the humanity?!  That nonsense went on for the rest of the half hour.  Next time I will record it and forward through the commercials. 

I decided to follow the pilates with a bit of yoga to cap off my morning fitness adventure.   It took me a few rounds to relax and match the flow of movements to my breath.  I remembered the glorious feeling that kept me in Bikram yoga for so long.  I felt calmer and more peaceful than I had in a long time.  I had a random, floating thought that the yoga would be over soon, surely I had been doing the cat sequence for long enough. 

“BARK!!!”  The sharp sound made my skin feel electric.

I screamed in surprise.  The poodle had decided that I had indeed been doing the cat sequence long enough. 

“MAX!  Get on your bed!!”  My heart was racing.  My calm facade was blown.  Deep breaths.  “Can’t you see I am relaxing here??”

A low growl was his response.  Ah.  The cat sequence was over.  It was on to the hero/warrior sequence.  Warm remembrances one again flooded my senses.  I was good at advanced warrior once.  Listening  to the calm, smooth voice, I closed my eyes and let my body takeover.  As I moved through warrior one, and confidently into warrior 3 (trust me, you dont need to know the postures to get this story) , I heard a pop.  Apparently the pop was my leg.  And the poodle must have thought someone shot me.  The howling bark shattered the yogic silence I had maintained for 45 seconds.  I lost my pathetic near balance and hit the ground.  In my own living room. 

“MAX!  Get on your %$*@ bed!!!!  It was my leg!”  But he was looking around the house for the shooter, bravely peeking around corners to clear the room before entering.  He even started sniffing the carpet to make me think he was on the trail.  Good god (the god of ridiculous poodles).

The yoga lady’s irritatingly calm voice was still yammering on.  Sun and moon…bla bla.  The poodle started barking again.  This time, it was at his own reflection in the sliding glass door.  Aren’t poodles supposed to be smart?  Is that yoga lady still going on about the sun and moon?  Wow, my leg hurts. 

“MAX!! Get over here this instant!”  But he was in full rip-snort mode.  Making laps around the downstairs.

Deep breaths.  Calming….

Oh hell.  I think I’ll have some bacon, cheese and soda for breakfast.