Well, here I am, writing again for pure pleasure. Or pain. Whatever.
I'm here today to talk about how completely exhausted my body has been lately. So to those of you in a mid-January schlump, I get you. I am your brother. I start Week 2 of Yogaing on Friday, and there has not been much running involved, I must admit. Last Friday I did 400s on the treadmill before heading to my first day of yoga school, which consisted of 90 minutes of a Kundalini practice (kundalini consists of a lot of heavy breathing exercises and poses, to put it in layman's/newbie terms). I thought I was going to pass out.
Five classes later, I left the yoga studio Sunday night knowing that I would have to quit the cocktail job I had picked up for the holidays. There's no way I can lead this double lifestyle any longer of late nights and early training sessions. My usually tight runner hamstrings are so open I don't even know them anymore, yet I feel sluggish. Mentally I feel somewhere between melancholy and high--but it could just be the weather and the incoming presidential regime. We shall see.
One strategy that I employ when faced with this dire pit of not-giving-a-damn (I'm trying to refrain the F word in this new year, but I assure you it is only a matter of time), is what I call the "10 Effing Minutes" plan.
The 10 Minutes Plan:
It's simple, really. Run for ten minutes. Check in. Feel like running some more? Fantastic. Go for another 10 minutes and check in again. Want to go back onto the couch? Fine. Do whatever you want, but get those first ten minutes in if you can.
Today's Yoga Takeaway:
Few of us will reach enlightenment, or however you want to interpret it, as laid out in the Sutras and other yogic texts. You might hate yoga (and running) in the beginning. This is how I felt about both these things. Life is funny. You are not alone when your heels don't touch the mat in downward dog. There will be good days, bad days, and days when you fart in class. It's cool. We've all been there.